There are cases on the stairs, on the stairs where
Footfalls and heels and all kinds of
Time have fallen into beds and baths of lilac water,
Tears of lilac wine shed with kindness
And coarse, strong arms
Have wrapped about sift sides.
Packed with too much lingerie, worn with too much washing and wear,
Too familiar to be under worn any more;
Thighs and breasts have been treated unkind,
Too unkind for satin and lace to repair.
Now there are cases on the stairs.
