Jasmine Vine upon Chicken Wire

“Why’s he up there?” I overheard, 

scaling the 5th floor banister. 

Intertwined with the perforated steel 

more than jasmine vine 

on chicken wire fencing, 

I ward away passersby with the same ferocity. 

A junkyard dog with a slightly refined palate,

escaping through chain link

not the kind to grasp jasmine coil,

I tore it clean before it took hold.  

This balcony was never meant for standing, 

it’s hollow contents echo 

with each step 

and stomp 

I take. 

Leaping off from Point A

To Point B, 

well Point B is actually the 5 stories between, 

so Point C is my real ambition. 

Point B, 

the second one, 

the fall, 

was yours.

Your Point B, 

also aided by gravity in a sense,

the way the pills follow their projected trajectory.

The mind can be a terrible vector. 

Perhaps we need the curling, 

ever upward

vigilante against 

the relentless force of gravity, 

that vine of Jasmine 

to ward us back into our fence,

no matter its composition,

from time to time.

Michael Carney