How does it go? Don’t look down from the top
of the ladder, the longest Michael had,
the latter eleven words extending
the narrative unnecessarily
when three short ones would do nicely, perched here
high on this airy rung, wind chimes ringing
a heavenly tune I can’t quite make out;
surprising this close to the Pearly Gates.
The view panoramic, perspective steep,
oblique roof tops to contemplate while I
tamp down the rat of my gnawing panic;
a white one injected with fear purely
for research purposes, the wind chimes in
my one free hand a variable in
this empirical test of gravity’s
seductively insistent siren’s song.