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Stumble off the Face
Folder:
Older Walk out and come back this time.
From where?
The bastard palm tree.
The bird descends the spiral staircase and
Spits in your eye.
Owl droppings that hold the truth.
Truth can never be trusted,
But once you see
The tower turn and
Stare you down,
The key? The question.
The door folded, the case closed.
Once, eleven whole hours of
Incessant beleaguerment.
The teams that cease.
It tells you momentarily,
But who can tell
What it says about fire?
