Saturday Morning (Stone Mouth)

I move into the stone mouth and
wait
while little wiry Wing Chung boys fill the lift

fold myself inside

glide up the building’s body like a
flow of fluid through a vein, a shiver up a spine, a thought to a brain

level 3 is mine and so I exit the
frame,

little wiry Wing Chung chittering sealed behind rising
doors.

Bless their fragile fighting
bodies. Bless their breathing
pores.

And now I’m alone and the stone mouth is waiting for me to clean its
floors.

I’m alone and the stone mouth is silently waiting for me to clean its
floors.

The stone mouth is silently, steadily waiting for me to clean its
floors.