Poem: Stack

This is another poem written about a photo I took. Still too rough for my liking, but here it is.

Stack

Warned by masters who would find this unbecoming,
I paid no heed and the stack has grown.
Seeded by wanderlust journals
haphazardly lounging on this wayward chair
the party spirals into a stairstep -
Where does it go? I do not know.
To unearth the originals, I slide out the bottom rung
careful not to send the tower toppling,
each attempt a greater effort
as it grows like a child whose appetite
cannot be satiated.