Gris-Gris, an online journal of literature, culture & the arts

The Ladder

by Jose Araguz

     

      for Christine Maloy

In a difficult time
the ladder grows different,
thinner. A wind comes
and sways what you hold onto.

A bee in the grass – I’ve stumbled
like that on the page. Drunk,
one would say. Staggering.
Unfocused. Searching.

When a friend dies you haven’t
spoken to in years,
the ladder has a rung
a different color, you struggle
to think where you first saw it.

Easy to say dust.
Easy to say we are dust.
A bit harder to say
where the ladder leads to.

The proper tribute – who
could write it? The lesson of
the ladder grows different,
one would say. Staggering.
A different color, you struggle
where the ladder leads to.