Corridors

Leafing through Kafka brought on this picture of a subdued afterlife.

What tempted me to join the queue?

It must be some great treat.

Only delight could keep these souls

Shuffling on blistered feet.

I turned a corner hours ago,

Quite perpendicular,

But as I count the corners off

I’ve tallied five so far.

The walls are clean, but they’re not bright,

Scrubbed to sobriety.

I passed a blotch I’d seen before,

But it might lie to me.

This line may loop into a square,

And no one’s first or last,

And all who’ve shuffled patiently

Are doomed to lose the past.

Did I ascend to this closed floor

By staircase or by lift?

Outside must lie some wider world,

Denied a precious gift.

The walls are bare of openings,

But we need only one.

Quiet can’t be the sole reward

For everything we’ve done.