A Fiction

There lies a book
At the bottom of the stairs
I see it while I sit
Tangible and still
I half expect it will open
On its own and bend
Itself backward over its spine
A literary Slinky in rewind
Up the stairs crawling
Cover over cover
End over pages end
Against all laws
Of nature nurture nothing
Until it nestles itself
In my lap
I cannot tell
If it is yet begun
But the ending bell
It has not rung
Only feel its body
Heavy against my thighs
Horror moving up my spine
What does it want
From me a story
A reader a writer a recycler
A soul to fill itself full
To tip me towards its starting place
To become ours
A partner for the falling
Limbs and contents mingling
In a blur of page and person
Until we hit the bottom
Ending both with crooked spines
A heap of unknown bent
Paper cut and crumpled
All undone but finally
As it was
First begun

— A.R.

ghost on the stairs marianna armata











I Sat at the Top of the Stairs by Julia Kay

~ by April on January 6, 2014.

3 Responses to “A Fiction”

  1. I found this surprisingly erotic. I know … it is just me.
    Excellent anyway.

    • Ha! Yes it is only about an experience during meditation, as well as a bit about the fear/motivation/compulsion to write. But glad you found it to be excellent. Thank you.

    • Now that I read it again, I see what you mean…totally not my intention today. But I guess reading and writing can be a passionate act so, I’ll take it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: