The stairs sleep
in the moonlight
(haunted by shadows
& the ghost of shadows) .
They go neither
up...nor...down.
The stairs dream of stillness
of being
perfectly still
in a world without
...footfall.
And yet: my footsteps
awaken it
and it is compelled
to resume being a stairs
taking me up
to an attic window
with a broken latch
twisted shut with twine
& a tangled clothes hanger
where a moon
floats across its pane
as if drowned
& I
cry
at the absence
of you.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/world-without-footfall-for-lyn/
