your walls are wounds
scarred over
curtains of charred red
impassable, jagged
torn texture
when i dreamed i scaled one to
peer at a childhood
as it were
a ship in a glass bottle
rising and bobbing in waves
of soaked sands
i had to laugh (nervous?)
at the immensity of it all
so many deep red walls
built standing so tall
where necessity bred the need for
barbed picks and sharp metal cleats
digging and drawing dark gouts
dozens of years to scale
the mangled mountainside
when all those years ago
you could have simply
shattered
the glass
and set sail.
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