Life at the top of the stairs

Life at the top of the stairs
for L.

Having to be somewhere—
  I found myself living on the landing  
at the top of the stairs.

A thousand times a thousand times
                              I finished in my mind
the unfinished painting leaning against the wall.

The eight-legged one,
    tiny Protectorate of the Shadows
                                                guarding her eggs,
she alone knows the rest of the story . . .

the window
e comatose trees
                                               the fog drenched night
and all the sad creatures and voices
                                       caught in the scaffolding there.