praise the way the stairs hang in infinity
rise to the attic where old histories are stored:
dressmaker’s dummy, butter churn, a dusty sextant–
past the third floor room of a crazy great grandmother
keep going out the window sweeping up
through the thinnest stars – the hooked moon curved
around its coming phase, barely visible, a sonogram
with all the complexities it will be born with–
what small changes can we see from earth when
in our own back yard buds appear on the willow
young-green leaves on the dormant fig, paint
beginning to peel from the north side of the house
praise the way the stairs come back, tread by tread
faithfully returning the day to its natural progression
crazy granny throwing a teacup from her barred window
a scattering of porcelain petals on the walk.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 1.
Una Nichols Hynum was born in Providence RI. She is a Graduate of SDSU, has been nominated for the Pushcart, a member of the Squaw Valley Community of Writers, and a finalist for Hearst Poetry Prize. Her work has most recently appeared in Spillway, Calyx, A Year in Ink, and San Diego Poetry Annual.
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