Published on: 11/12/2014
Sylvia's Stairs

She locks the weathered box
in a dank basement,

again hides the cryptic key
behind tangled brown eyes

that consider most all days
to be a crude wilderness.

Perhaps there can never be enough flowers
laid on the kind of grave

that resurrects itself each morning
to those teenage years

when she was pushed down
all the stairs of her psyche.