THE STAIRCASE AND WHAT IT DID by KATIE CLARK

i am watching you walk where your feet,
smaller then,
stumbled | muddied | blistered
pre-bound, pre-ballet,
danced differently.

what if i knew where i was
when you were still-
child laying your legs’
down roadside,
blonde hairs blooming

(chrysalis)
catch them wind woven
spinning into what you were
becoming wish-worthy,

throw-for-you thoughts.
how many pennies would i’ve:
then all, perhaps. now, for sure.
what was dreamt then,

before time turned touch |
left smudges | shadowed

& what was lost to this? maybe
we knew before, now knowing
is to lose your teeth again. i

want to taste the words you
tell me about it with–
say glass.
i am thinking sugar crystalized

some summer,
melting

—–

Katie Clark is a queer poet on the verge of the twenties who belongs to a lot of places. Find them on twitter at octupiwallst, tumblr at forelevenseas and in Alien Mouth, Sea Foam and Spy Kids Review.

Vagabond City Literary Journal

Founded in 2013, we are a literary journal dedicated to publishing outsider literature. We publish art, poetry, and creative nonfiction from marginalized creators.