Wire

I might as well haul up my life
like a tin bucket on a wire;
prevent my myself from falling
into a well of darkest night and fire.
Two lovers dare to come together,
twisting in the glimmering light,
it simmers, slithers in a snake-like bind
and tightens all the while.

They stand on the edge of the world
Toes curled over the rim,
holding each other like children
and stopping them both from jumping in.
They’re dancers that tiptoe on the wind
spinning in the glittering dawn,
both waltzing, alone then together again,
keeping going until their worn.

If only they knew who was watching,
And the puppet-strings that make them dance,
Then maybe they’d step over the ledge,
and into the continual dark.
I might as well tip out my life
well-worn mutterings onto a burning pyre
so I can accept the darkest night
and learn to love the fire.