top of the world

eighteen hundred

nineteen hundred

twenty hundred

my car
has climbed me up
to the top of the world
and I
am dizzy

near to falling

a crow
hovers in the air
its shadow
on the road

black birds
above me
and below



a challenge
for me to confront
the sheer
of the road
going down

eyes down

eyes down


eyes down
for one turn

one turn

and one turn more
in another low gear

I’ll crawl
all of the way


to home

© Frank Prem, 2017

December 2017 Poem #11: spring creek small walk: Iris

3 thoughts on “top of the world

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