National Poetry Month 30 Poems in 30 Days Challenge, Poem #2

From here

Jennifer Was Recognized for Twenty-Five Years of Service With a Plaque Although She Has No Office Wall to Hang It On

She's the sound of her own hard thumped steps falling
  heavy as blackbannistered stairs
  varicosed by yesterday's labor
  and inflamed with tomorrows,
  but she's climbing three flights

Because it's morning again
  she climbs three flights with her head thrown back
  lifts each arm with its scent of anti-sceptic
  one wide treaded boot follows the other like dawns
  and she's climbing again toward the skylight

Her mouth half opens inhaling dust
  the thick stuff that clings despite
  tangy bleach swirled in the rust stained sinks,
  while her hair loses color running away from her scalp
  until it hangs in gray gnarls against her sweat damp collar

She is the shafts of dawn cut
  through the dust she's stirred up
  and the bannister creaks where her left hand depends on it
  clumping the good and the bad legs up the stairs in turn
  while through the skylight morning withers weakens recedes.