orange #1
tiptoe tightrope
tip right plummet
through space;
tip left tumble
through ice water.
Slippery rim, no toehold; on rim on edge, they try to reach their hairy legs, but they can’t grip the side; they have so many eyes. If my toes don’t hold, down go I; I am quick snack no fuss no work..
I want to sit on the rim but they may reach and snatch my dangling feet; if I face west the view is clean but they can tiptoe behind. Over there is cold; over here is floorless. Out there is unknown.
Might it be better? Might the change lift these corners into a smile, lighten these feet to skip down the green avenue?
I’d give out all these bulbs, for planting in every yard, orchids orange and red and sinless. Spread wings and fly into the unknown.
