Her Attics

The stairway on its tiptoes. Straining to see. What is right in front of it. The world in colored blocks. Testing her confidence. As she examines the evidence. The wolf puffing. While she hides in her straw house. Bricks falling all around her. Catching none.

Her painted fingernails. Rife with counterbalance. The texture of the world. Like film and skin. The repulsive bleeding into the sweet.

Ripe fruits. Their meat speculating on the realities of us.

The taste of possibilities.