someone is climbing on a roof 

at any give moment
they are opening a hatch.
prying free an old latch.
crawling on hands & knees across 
gritty shingles. 
a flat roof is preferred 
but a slanted roof is nice for laying back on.
a clouded living room.
the television plays 
a documentary about jumping.  
below them, the world is a bowl of sorbet. 
their parents are a pair of spoons on the couch. 
a mouth full of sticky notes
& a pair of wings made of dust,
they are prepared for very few emergencies
& even less miracles. what do you know
of the eighteen miracles of rooves?
count to ten on your fingers. 
stop now, they aren't going to list them for us.
what do you mean to do 
when you ascend the silver ladder,
the one propped up 
against the side of the house?
they take a square of paper out from under their tongue 
& scribble a prayer before
pressing the note to the glossy surface
of the night sky. 
texture of a tile-floor bathroom.
a sink is running until it becomes 
a pair of legs. everyone want to be
on the roof. what would we do 
without the roof to look forward to.
take turns with your loved ones.
imagine their bodies ambling below you.
all those digits 
on all those fingers.
our house might sink into the earth this year.
then, all that would remain 
would be the roof.
a roof is a perminant organ
glowering up above. from a roof
another house could grow 
with all its own secrets 
& all its own sorrows.
my brother is the someone on a roof-- 
i can feel him up there.
he is setting a tent. he is intending to stay. 
it rains ping pong balls to spite him
but he holds out. the sun cracks open
& the yolk runs down our backs. 
winter will smell like metal.
he is just someone. i am not someone
at least not while i'm not on a roof.
i am shrinking to the size of a nickle.
the last roof i was on was at least
three years ago & here i am 
with the dirt devouring my toes
when there are so many potential rooves.
i should just choose one.
i take a walk & see all the happy people
standing tall above their worlds.
they look like lightning rods
from a distance. each of them so close.
once, i looked up & the moon was a window.
i looked back & it was gone. 
somewhere is beaming at us
on another side.