With two hands he clutches the railing
Throwing it under his weight
Catching each inch like the rope
In a tug of war
Hand over hand
He pauses
Stops.
And starts
Pulling his old aching legs
Down one more flight of stairs
Step.
He catches air in his lungs
Urging it to stick around,
To make itself at home
In the bottom most spaces
that expand to make room for the guest of honor
But the stay is short
And with a heave
It’s fit to leave
It is only passing through
Exiting, unchanged, into the greater atmosphere
The man,
Letting his face twist and tighten
Mourns the loss of another breath
He pauses.
Stops.
And starts.
Grabbing for another piece of air.