Dyslexic

Who would’ve thought that

at birth, my double-helix world would be dropped

on its head — that it would spiral on its mis-

informed axis into grand self-delusions

— upside-down, dyslexic! What an

eternalisation of nothing but ego

standing on its head, looking

down at the sky, the abyss —

cities like stalactites,

elevators to the tips.

I drop my lot out the windows,

watch it plummet into space — take

out birds along the way to the cosmic

pits. The poles will capsize (or right them-

selves, who knows?) — so to breathe in the

auroras orbiting the meridians, I hang myself from

lightning conductors like a big red, weighted balloon

awaiting my last breath.

(previously published on The Wordshed, 2006)