Building 54 Poem by jodi glass

building 54 was not an exciting place
not the tallest, nor the smallest
with 200 more along the street
an ordinary building in the city

the faded black door, little noticed on a cloudy day
and even more ignored by the sun
with 200 more along the street
on ordinary door in the city

the round door handle, tainted with unseen finger prints
brass coloured, with sliver dotted about
rusted and cold to touch, grinding metal opening the faded black door
with 200 more along the street
an ordinary door handle in the city

the unlit room, stripped with sunlight
the grimy floor, covered with growing grey dust
strips of light hits the floor
with 200 more along the street
an ordinary empty building in the city

building 54 was not an exciting place