Sonnet By A Woodland Elevator Chair

by Zahra Stevick, Bad Habits Editor

Awakening—unloved, unsat upon.

Then sudden joy: into the ‘vator brought.

Yet soon abandoned, mercilessly forgone:

The doors slide shut, and I am left to rot.

O tragedy! O Sisyphean life!

To rise, then fall, to serve, and then to grieve.

Brief shining triumph chased by sharpest knife,

As, without fail, my passengers must leave.

By night, I have accepted this my fate:

To seat the weary, guide the drunken home.

My metal prison I must now create,

As beck’ning harbor, safe for those who roam.

At close of day, I am returned. Amen.

Next morning, still, it all begins again.