the sieve and the sand

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elevator poetry

The Elevator

poetry

The doors have closed,
but down I don’t go,
instead content

to hear the buzzing
of unknown origin,

to lean on the wall
of cool, cool metal,

to enclose myself
in a metal box,

where there is no noise
and there is no strife;
there is no movement in the box,
but somehow I end
on another floor.

September 14, 2011September 14, 2011 Jared Abraham Tagged elevator poetry Leave a comment
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