There was that tower

they built on the hill high above you

up by the reservoir,

remember?
The tower that frightened you

so much you wanted to wear

a lead helmet because of

the emanations,
until I pointed out that lead

was probably more dangerous.

You’d be better off chopping

the damn thing down
then taking your axe to the plastic,

the petrol, the asbestos, the 245T,

except that you wouldn’t have the time,

remember,
or the energy already sapped

by the emanations. Better to

change shape, become a vine

and climb, climb
flamboyantly, climb and smother

foliate and tendril, trumpet vine

cow itch vine, and flower there,

enjoy the view.