Burj Khalifa, Eiffel, Willis, Taipei 101:

their names are enough to give you vertigo.

Iron fists, twisting swords, taunting cartels

 

this is not the Verdon,

it’s a quarter mile of glass and steel.

Necks craned, we scan the tartan grid,

 

our guts churning like fresh cement;

strong fingers, permanently bent, grip articulations.

It’s rare to see a man defy a stainless sky,

 

ignore the yawning void, not every day

someone smiles outside your window

on the ninety-seventh floor.

 

He skims up curtain walls, counts stories

like the months he lost in comas,

impossible reflections in his eyes,

 

clears the vertex, lifts his arms

above a blaze of urban lights.

Sometimes police arrest him, but this won’t deter him.

 

Our wounded superhero doesn’t care.

He climbs so he can be reborn

and doesn’t need eight legsjust two, and good shoes.

 

(First published in The Sunlight Press, 6 June 2017.)

 

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