Keith Jones

from the lucid
upward ladder

Shells preceding
the star ship
pricked by perception’s
faraway door
outer banksof Cassiopeia
We who singto shatter,our shelter,
off key.

The sprawl, The wave
The threshold wenchdiving to salvage
The sturdy bell
that swellsits torn gown
Shimmering with broken bits,the spindly smashed aeons,here