Stability

Stability

        The game ends when the tower falls. - Jenga rulebook

Discontent with in-betweens, 

perhaps it is a subconscious need 

for empathy that slides him out

of bed at 6:15, slides his feet

across the tile floor to pull a chair

beneath the lunette window. Taut air 

and fickle light sit blue and discontent

for twenty passing minutes, 

stuck languishing between the dark

and day, but strangely he is reassured.

This happened yesterday, he tells himself,

tomorrow it will be the same, and faith

in time's unshakable resiliency, a shaky faith,

but nonetheless the stuff he's building with,

slides one more Jenga sliver in 

the quaking tower of halves and in-

betweens he now inhabits, half-

believing somehow it will stand, half-

expecting otherwise, praying it will hold

just long enough for him to grope

the long way upwards, puzzle out

the footing for the scramble up

                                 

to heaven's gates.