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.