A sign specifies I ought to stand right or walk
left. Standing right, moving, and thus moving
as I stand, I take this escalator, which takes
me: down, against the grain of its name.
Ahead I see the floor inhale grooved metal
steps insatiably. The ingested plates fall
into an abyss, which I escape undramatically
by getting off a step just before it vanishes.
The momentum of moving while standing
right makes my first stride betray over-
compensation. A slight hint of stagger mars
my gait. I proceed to plod without machine.
Copyright 2009 Hans Ostrom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem