The laughing bellhop cranked the elevator down
Weeping the walls of the shaft from no source glowed no spot
-light no projector blue with every chuckle green
With every sob the white of the floating rocks that float
On Crater Lake forever dirty white of rocks
Floating on water clean forever the pitted walls
Glowed white with every gasp from too much laughing too
Much weeping blue then green for hours those alternating
Then white then green then only white the light on the walls
In the middle of or maybe near the bottom of
Or maybe really not so far from the top of the shaft
Although I couldn’t or not me and not the robot
Bird see from where in the shaft the walls began to only
Ever glow white no blue no green I couldn’t see or
We couldn’t see the light at the mouth of the shaft and were
So deep we heard each gasp now only after each
Glowing the gasp occasioned maybe Law the robot
Bird could see farther up than me so maybe Law
Could see the light at the mouth of the shaft but I don’t think
Law could hear sooner no and later in the dark
-ness so far down the shaft long seconds stretched between
Each flash of white and each faint gasp I asked and Law
Still couldn’t see the bunker no although and then
We swung in the bucket far below the mouth of the shaft
So far we only heard the gasps we couldn’t hear
The sobbing hidden in the light by which we saw
Excerpted from NEW AND COLLECTED HELL: A Poem by Shane McCrae. Published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Copyright © 2025 by Shane McCrae. All rights reserved.