Stop waxing the stairs with the bird on the pillar!

Rooted and resigned
waiting at bus-stops
she flies off the handle
like a bird in a stairwell
a pillar of deepest longing
amidst tidy smell of wax.
Bird trapped in rust-cage
wax coating beak and wings
he comes to a glottal stop
watching her turn to pillar of salt.

This was written in response to a prompt after drawing five random words out of a hat. My words were: wax, bird, pillar, stairs, stop. The resulting poem fits in well with the books I am currently reading about love triangles: Therese Bohman’s ‘Drowned’ (for WIT Month) and Rosamond Lehmann’s ‘The Echoing Grove’.

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