Someone would be able to photograph this scene
and smuggle all it whispers beyond the high walls
of the quiet, stony garden where I stand, someone
with more patience, someone who understands
the moods of light, someone braver, who would
not worry if others saw her moving the staircase,
positioning it in the right place for the picture,
this wheeled metallic staircase ten stairs tall,
which waits for the living here between the shelves
of tombs, waiting for someone to rise up and wash away
the dust that has gathered on the name of the beloved.
Someone would be able to photograph these stairs
and all that is implied by how they split the space
between the rows of tombs, spilling upward
to the sky, as if you might have climbed them
when you left us.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 28, Issue 3.
John Schellhase is an American writer based in Segovia, Spain. His writing has appeared or is forthcoming in FOLIO, Dappled Things, New Limestone Review, Prosetrics, Linebreak, and other publications.
See all items about John Schellhase