LiveJournal Idol 9: Topic 2: The Missing Stair

[eeyore_grrl]

		the house on lexington avenue

it’s easy to walk
step follows
        step follows
                step follows
                        step follows
well, you get the idea
one foot in front of the other
one foot down after the other
rise over run
it becomes commonplace

there are 17 steps in my staircase
i take them daily
over and over
up and down
bedrooms upstairs 
living quarters down

it’s easy to walk
step up step down
sometimes i run
creating speed when i feel the need to get there sooner
faster
seconds faster 
my feet know the rise over run
the height, when to expect to land on the next stair
it’s a solid experience
                                    stable
                                               unlikely to falter

but i remember staircases, in houses, that were not
i remember the house on lexington avenue
crooked, falling down, creosote leaking 
i tripped and fell, burning my hand on the cast iron potbelly woodstove
blisters searing into my skin, the shape of a seashell
(my mother joked, trying to lighten the mood, 
that my palm would read of water, the ocean)

we lived there for a few years
and i never went into the basement
the stairs were rickety, frightening
i was unsure that they could bear my weight
          unsure that all the steps were accounted for
i was certain that i would come upon the missing stair and fall
                  							and fall
								     and fall
fall until i hit bottom
broken, hurt, unable to climb again
                     unable to call for help as i lay on the damp, dirt floor

my mother says that this house was not meant to be lived in any longer
		(the rent was very reasonable)
it was secluded, her partner had a giant garden down the path
	in summer we practically lived on zucchini and bread alone

but i swore, she swore, the place was haunted
maybe someone else fell, so long ago, missing that stair to the basement
perhaps she fell, alone one day, a delicate ankle twisting as she ventured to the cellar
all her weight catapulting her head over heels until she landed
	neck at an obscene angle, her screams silenced

i believed in ghosts then
i believe i saw her and she haunted my dreams
my yells bringing my mother up the stairs
safely stepping rise over run
she saw wisps as she came into my room
the moon creating rainbows splashing across me
a friendly ghost
                     i believed

we moved on, leaving her behind to the house that scared me
                       leaving her to fend for herself or move on to better places

a quarter century later
                       i have no cellar stairs to frighten me, to worry me
the house is ours, the stairs solid and whole

the house on lexington avenue is no longer
      it was condemned as we moved out
      taken down and rebuilt upon 

i hope she found safety and calm	

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You can hear and see me read it at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghpYo18or80&feature=youtu.be

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This has been an entry for LiveJournal Idol Season 9, Topic 2: The Missing Stair. Many more entries at http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/718214.html. Voting information will be posted here once it is available. VOTING LINK HERE: http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/719384.html

Comments

[kandigurl.livejournal.com]

I really love the way you wrote this, it felt spooky and nostalgic at the same time.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I'm glad that comes through. And a comparison of then and now. Stability and not.

Thank you.

[halfshellvenus.livejournal.com]

I liked the reminiscences of the other house, of the perhaps-ghost who lived there (and possible details about her), and the sense of mourning that destroyed house more for that ghost than for anything else.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

I don't miss that house, if there is a ghost, she was nice, I don't want her homeless, lost.

[basric.livejournal.com]

I like the format and the story. Nicely done.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

Thank you.

[cheshire23.livejournal.com]

This style of poetry doesn't always work for me, but yours did.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

:D Thank you.

[whipchick.livejournal.com]

The image of the burned palm is lovely.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

Thankfully it didn't scar though...

[eska818.livejournal.com]

I liked this style. Poetry is always beyond my skills, but I love to read it. Well done.

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

That's how I feel about good prose. Thanks.

[eternal-ot.livejournal.com]

Not bad...loved the spooky feel it gave!

[eeyore-grrl.livejournal.com]

Thank you. It was a fairly spooky house.