The · Word · Pirate

the height from which it hung
cold and perilous

felt low and wan against its orbit
coronating in great arcs and spans
a crown so brillant a trillion
shining shards a humble ring

when it fell
I could only think of a comet

darkness and fire plummeting
a burnt line across the sky
yet the impact all in ice
heaving up a mountain without mass
a glitter in endless glass

and on that impossible slope, I start
awake

toppling up towards
clearemptyinfinite
every step a stumble gasp
above ghost shapes moving
within its low tinted glass
straining at pale pyramidal seams
my rough heels feel the burred pitch of some nothing screamed
as I stand on sloping walls once made of sand
shaking above something still alive

shivering above looking down
it is so steep I feel far beneath the ground
I tremble fall clutch and seize
I am but a silhouette there is no sound
a tiny shadow on my knees

it is a moment I might understand
reaching below into not quite guilt
no longer climbing,

but an upward tilt