Splunk

Earth upended

my footing

unsure on the surface

left to stand

exposed to the element

a precipitous end

waxing

into an open

invitation 

the road rises

rough

and riddled

potholed with

endless 

event

horizons

to

abseil

so I cave

go all-in

crawling and scrawling 

hands and knees and notes

in hopes 

I do not lose my way

Chimneying up

narrow political paths

navigating 

stale skill steep

pitches

confronting

calendar cinching

squeezes

with

Only

 moonmilk

to quench my thirst

the flowstone

calls me forward

into the Saracen's tent

October Poetry Writing Month 2020

 Day 8 of 31   

Photo: Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository