The day Arnie discovered that steps
could kill people who came upon them
unexpectedly, he built steps
down from the toilet seat and raised
steps up from the breakfast nook
and hooked a set of steps on the baby’s
crib and mixed cement steps under
the driver’s seat of his mother’s car,
laced a ladder through the garden
and fixed it so steps poured out of the faucet
of the kitchen sink. He didn’t
think for a minute anyone would notice
the steps he hid in the chairs,
the sharp-edged steps on the stairs.