Towers

Here is the world: Mother Enter and Father
Exit, in puddle iron latticework. Abandon your city,
abandon your home-made parachute
in favor of radiant energy.
Cosmic rays, come
scrape the sky, and mean it.

Ask generations of math
questions of pig iron,
questions of wind resistance.
Here is the hex: a cave wall picto-recipie
for a very pure form of structural poison.

We begin with a small sample. Does it work?
Are you immune to bites, to jumps? Only one way
to find out. I will set the stakes up high,
we can perch your tent on top; your snakes, your Jesus.

As the Eiffel Tower spreads her legs,
you take/ my perfumed hair for granted.
The iron lady in an apple-mythed world, fucked,
between/bites, you take
the high road/ only one way to the sky, you say.

The world is made of towers
and so many ways to fall.