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.

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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.

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