Road Narrows

We never see the signs until
they’re right above our heads

and never think to take the turn
until the junction has been missed

We climb the black and white stairs
looping eternally into themselves

The lights on the streets go out
one by one and the bridge descends

beneath the bay— Faraway stars
watch as we enter the narrowing throat

of darkness but they are too far away
and too dead to tell us what they know

 

In response to Via Negativa: Fabulist.

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