You could hike over it, the you
without a problem, its mountain
viewed from the closet
coats are found in, your constant
Yes/No a hee-haw, a mule alert
that’ s pasture-perfect,
a coronary at the last corner.
Nobody’ s framing you for the chintz-
covered wall to cover the leak.
Besides, you like leaks, you’ re inside
the view as if hibernating
or crazy, you try not to erupt.
Hypothesize the rest,
the languor and freshet,
the crags, the serrated parade.
So — heights? What about the hairy stream,
the pushed-up bushes saying Pet me?
You got a problem with that?
Cascade is what you call it
a voice off the hanger, the blouse
cast in a corner or animate.