The City of Stairs

First a hill was here beneath fast

Eyes that draped cold, tread-worn granite

Over it in terraced, timeless

Paths. Uncarved with windows, doors or

Railings, flight and terrace, epoxy-

Saturated, give no springy

Quarter, entertaining ascent,

Descent, interval of rest with

Altar hospitality to

Help our feet forget how not to

Move. The naked stars impover-

ished as wandering and barren

Asherah priestesses rub our

Eyes like sanding-paper on the

Fingernails. But we distrust the

One enormous star that sometimes

Shouts azure and moldy white from

Close within the chasm of the

Sky. Self-speaking and star-worried

Over granite cold we pass up

Through the City of Stairs where the

Architects now climb no more but

Watch diminishing returns of

Surprise across our faces flee

At each successive, hidden flight.