The Lift

The cable groans a heavy, metal sigh.

We’re trapped in a box, just him and I.

He’s holding a bag that’s starting to leak,

and the air in the corner is heavy and weak.

I watch the floor numbers, three, four, and five,

reflected in chrome where the shadows slide.

He stares at his laces, I stare at the wall,

waiting for the cable or the silence to fall.