Winding Staircase

A mind rises and falls through planets
spinning blue eyes counterclockwise.

I don’t remember my projectile existence—
leaving my father

then my mother

but my wife and I
went on to make a baby

out of a Golden Yukon potato
and a bit of elbow grease.

I stand on a straw floor,
the dogs are barking not far away

rust of the steam age burrows
across a world 
both flat and hollow

incising intent on all things inanimate.

Someone is smashing a hammer on pavement
a father telling distant relations

his child is almost born.

An old woman sits by the stove
bored or just cold

a withered umbilical cord snakes out
from beneath her housecoat

rising from morgue and twisted earth;

all deformed monsters
are inherited, passed on

the bell on the oven timer rings—

that which should be destroyed
can also be transformed

into bliss.

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Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He lives in Crystal Lake, IL, USA with his wife, Vickie, and daughter, Sage. He is a three-time Pushcart, Best of the Net and Best of the Web nominee whose work has appeared in more than a thousand publications.

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