Sky Pathway

I am still bonding with my new apartment today, marveling over the features of old homes in this part of town.

The houses were built large, for breathing space, and close,

close enough to lean out a window and touch the neighbor's wall.

I see this in the rooftops,

gabled and tumbling into the distance,

close enough that I can play "the floor is lava"

from here to Cave Hill Cemetery.

leaping from the last roof into the top of a still Oak.

Inside the walls I lower myself to the earth,

made cool and rich from the bones of ancient ancestors.

In just the right spot I catch whispers --

the Kentucky Giant speaks to Muhammad Ali,

some ancient tale of unruly bodies

well beyond a narrow world's scrutiny.

Holding loosely to the secrets underneath our living silence,

I climb over the rooftops and home again.