5 of 5 in a series

Laura Gregory


Years later when you pass steep stair wells,
empty elevator shafts gaping black
and bottomless, wood chippers gnashing,
train tracks vibrating invisible math—
distance over time equals

what if

there’s a jolt and your feet
slip, leap, attach however briefly
to nothingness, to one
unsheathed flash of it before

you catch yourself,
straighten your coat, laugh
for the stranger who sits
in your blind spot,
finger on the trigger.

Laura Gregory likes to aim high.