Originally appeared in Unit Circle #3

Inherent

Before there was ever school...
before I knew about school
there was my crib
and somewhere in between the two
there was walking

(which I learned)

and a big girl's bed
and the stairs --

which I knew in a different way.


Each one was a different width,
a different length.
And I'm certain
someone always changed them around
while I was asleep.
Never woke me up though,

those people changing their stairs.

I think it was my mother
stirring her instant coffee
way down in the kitchen,

(far, far away from my room)

that woke me up each morning.
And when my third eye would alert me of this happening
I would gather
everything that was in my bed

(pillow,
blanket,
favorite stuffed animal)

into my arms,
in front of me,
supported somewhat by my face
and I'd approach the top of the stairs.

I'm not sure which stair it was

that I'd miss

or, if it was ever the same one,
but each morning

before breakfast

I'd be with a bump on my head
at the bottom of those stairs
while Mom knocked over
her barely sipped coffee.


Susanna

Unit Circle Poetry