Cinnamon-honey
roasted
salt chocolate
streaked
cheesecake
layers
melt hundreds of feet high
creating
a shallow
frame—whether
for
minted
water or
lemon-blue
sky
I
can’t decide.
Perhaps,
it
is this shallowness that is disconcerting.
This
gilded frame
is
only
half
of
what it once was.
Cavernous
mint waters
pool;
their
natural beauty
belies
artificiality
as
man-made as
the
mouthwash
they
remind me of.
Sweated
faith
Concrete
trust
Red
dust
Canyons
fill for
forty-nine
years.
Histories
drown in
five-hundred-eighty-nine
months.
Tick-tock,
tick-tock.
A
seventeen-thousand-seven-hundred-ninety-eight day
flood
has gained permanency
notoriety
quintessentiality.
Is
this worth the cost of
never
landing
in the center of this
“curious
ensemble of
wonderful
features”?
