on the rungs
of morning’s ladder:
long-stemmed wildflowers
quivered
with almost words
de-fanged silver springs
recoiled from the charred remains
of midnight moons
that vanished with a wink and a growl
a numbing pathos of redundant fan blades
cooled steaming lumps
of cucumbers
unencumbered by form
a sea of lusty smoothness
engulfed toes
as succulent as
Mediterranean grapes
but my aching climbing hands
were eroded to the bone
by a tepid mundane rain
and my unzipped soul
screamed
quietly