It looms I am buried in its shadow It moves not Towards me, but I towards It is unscalable I teeter a mere inch off the ground But that inch is hard-earned I reach above my head Fingers balancing on a narrow rock shelf And…

The coffee at the canteen’s no damn good, you know I think the supplier slipped the kitchen super a bag of cement mixed with topsoil— you’d think they’d have figured it out when the shelf collapsed under the weight of the sack But no, they…