Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Three Floors Up

She grunts, snorts, heaves and lifts a mammoth left,
Rests a swollen right, a bit, to breathe
She mutters, "Ya Rab"
and wipes the sweat from off the forehead,
hair, tattered, red, curls, cling,
Sting, the face,
Feels like a brick.
She pants, a child runs past
A single giggle cracks, entwines,
With baby breath and orange peel,
She smiles, Collects and picks herself,
Exhales, her tongue and lips connect
"Come on now, only six more steps..."