I feel the bounce before the break

I’m entwined…

so strong –

is he trying to trap me in his crucifixed

silence

as I go to water the Tibouchina?

On the back porch, an unknown abseiler

at the penumbra

of sunlight reveries –

Miss Muffet redux,

So, I clean

and re-arrange

the garden furniture, that canvas

of redback cubism

I don’t care much for