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On Higher Ground
Imke Zeinstra [nl], 15 min

A red mist blocks my vision as I walk into the room wrapped up in stairs
A squeaking sound on the dank floor
I get out and walk around

To climb the stairs, high
With higher heels
At the highest I brush the mist, faster
waiting until I feel another red

I slow down
and let the comb drop
I go down
placing my feet carefully

I close the wood
in and walk away