Stuart Rawlinson #54 - Vertigo

Up here they say
The air is rarefied
Stretched and diluted
Sieved and shaken
The locals don't gasp
Don't funnel their lips
And suck invisible straws

Grass grows in strands
Dirt veneers, cusps
Of topsoil pull
Like tarpaulin over
The edge. Birds
Glide below in an
Inverted yellow sky

Above just the slow
Descent into the
Negative blue
A spectrum neatly sliced
Layered and curved
Looking up causes
The greatest vertigo