Installation by L. Bourgeois, 1989
Like two commas that cut a flight of words into halves these, too, are fat and slow guarding the stairwell with their Sphinx eyes wrinkled in stagnation there is no exit for them. But you still can whisk through to the stairs
hidden so well behind the screen, first, train your feet and then grow a feather with each step.
Note: This poem appeared in The Spoon River Poetry Review, Winter/Spring 2005.