Stairwell.
Concrete echo
Spirals without mercy.
Bib pinned to a chest already
Burning.
Upward.
No sky in sight,
Only fluorescent dawn
Flickering over numbered landings.
Higher.
Footfall.
Rail cold in hand.
Breath counts louder than steps.
A metronome of pulse and grit
Rising.
Midway.
Legs turn to lead,
Quads singing protest songs.
Each switchback tightens the lungs’
Compass.
No wind.
Only recycled
Air tasting faintly of dust.
Windows offer brief, cruel postcards
Of clouds.
Push on.
Mind climbs first now,
Body bargaining behind.
One more floor becomes the prayer
Repeated.
Summit.
A door bursts wide.
Sky floods the narrow chest.
The city spills beneath your shoes—
Open.
Stillness.
Heart hammering.
The stairwell far below hums.
You have run a mountain
Built.
-
Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: July 7th, 2026 00:03
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is inspired by the sport of tower running which involves running up tall man-made structures, internal staircases of skyscrapers. For more context, visit https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tower_running
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
- In collections: Sports Poetry.
Offline)
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