We did it.
Under the creaking stairs
that smelled of varnish
and musty wood
Behind the door
Where the clothes hooks caught our hands
and raked our skin
In the attic
where dust rose and fell
into a shaft of evening sun
peeping in
to catch some action
In the corner
as an old lamp shade
watched us from under its veil
we held our breath
and hurried
As we did it
left to right
and again
as we cleaned
the cob webs.
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