…through the chambers of us

Again, I descend the spiral staircase of loss
where the whispers of my memories linger in the shadows
I feel it winding around me like a deadly serpent
consuming both the past and the future
I am walking barefoot through the chambers of us
the windows and floors cobwebbed and cracked
the air is thin here and I feel you less and less
step, after step, after step at each imaginary landing
a mirror waits for me and in each of them
I catch a brief glimpse of myself becoming a little more blurred
a little more made of breath than bones
and as I near the last step I do not know
if I will emerge into light or into another spiral
into endless darkness, but still, one hand on the rail
I take another step into the great unknown
for I carry this grief, like Atlas carried the sky
it arches over me, vast and filled with stars
and my spiral staircase carries me away
with each turn your face fades
and I hope that the weight becomes lighter
but the air still carries the fragrance of you, a trick of sorrow
I pass the same window again and again
outside, a moonlit night, trees silvered with frost
each branch, a hand reaching, that will never, ever touch
just as we, will never touch again through the endless years
even apart, we descend together, each footfall, echoes twice
once for me, and once for the shadow of you beside me
circling, I lose you in revolutions and turn after turn
I circle downward as the world narrows to a pinhole
a pupil dilated in the dark
as I watch us both as we disappear into the void
where memories become a mirage
© Ann Bagnall