lying where
the ceiling
was the floor,
I was told
we were there,
although I
was alone —
as strange
no dust collect
the lintel-
would-be stoop
made to stop
a flood —
the boy
above the floor,
I never
heard him walk
Poetry
lying where
the ceiling
was the floor,
I was told
we were there,
although I
was alone —
as strange
no dust collect
the lintel-
would-be stoop
made to stop
a flood —
the boy
above the floor,
I never
heard him walk