Stumble off the Face


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?

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