Eight-line Poems

Rising Philosophy

Rising Philosophy

The hand-painted sign sparks a query,
displayed as it is on the otherwise mute
elevator doors. “Out of order” what?
Comes forth fruitfulness? Or peace?
Or has the lift scraped the last dregs
of efficiency from the barrel and we are bound
to the ground or faced with the prospect
of the long obsolete toil of the stairs?


Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, April 25 2021
Prompt: Out of order.