day 1: ground floor

The last time I didn't step carefully over
the crack between carriage and floor,
I was nine, and got lost in Rome in the one hour
we'd been there.

The last time I pressed a button with my eyes closed,
The waxwing sang to me from afar,
but never ate from my branches but once--
it flew to another tree instead, and stayed there.
I was never a rowan.

The last time I jumped up as it slid down,
I burnt my left shoulder,
and rinsed myself off with hidden lake water
after you finished.
I couldn't sleep the night before
because I was afraid you were trying to hold me in your sleep.

The last time I took the easy way up...
but I never have.

Great-sky-blooming-water,
tulip-petal-clouds,
the signal that I should make another promise
to paint my paper limbs with glowing.

My new blinds let in too much natural light--
no more cave-dwellers to reside here, says my Mother.

The last time I closed my eyes,
I heard the deepest note a cello could play,
and I didn't open my eyes until it was too late--
the bow had left the string.

I can't even remember the last time I took an elevator,
but I know it wasn't that long ago.

I just know that I dream of taking one
to get to my own home
someday.

-Dana Winter