I watched a single spruce sprout out of crack in asphalt
Sunday morning, church time,
From my skeletal apartment
high above the street lamps,
While my eyes dried and crusted with dust.
My fingers charred to leather, tightly bound
on to the iron balcony.

But the stubble-like blemish of the road's surface
Was ****** back inside concrete
From which it grew,
A magic trick,
Like a rabbit reentering its black hole tophat,
Just as the earth was flushed
down the esophagus of Satan,
Swirling in a tornado of molten lava,
Lucifer's saliva.