You climb the iron ladder slow
Where summer winds learn how to blow
Your fingers trace the peeling paint
Like psalter pages worn by saint
This fire escape your cathedral now
The gulls cry alto from the bow
You plant your boots on holy ground
And let the dusk instruct you how
You held the wheel through gale and spray
The ocean's breath is far away
You chart the cracks in mortar joints
Like latitude and longitude points
Your spine aligns the metal bars
Like pews that held the Sunday stars
You breathe in four, you breathe in eight
A fermata on a rusted gate
This fire escape your cathedral now
The gulls cry alto from the bow
You plant your boots on holy ground
And let the dusk instruct you how
No compass rose to guide you home
Just iron lattice, steel and chrome
The tide resides in ribcage deep
The sea has promises to keep
The neighbor's radio plays low
A ballad from a decade ago
You close your eyes and hear the choir
Sing Vespers on the telegraph wire
This fire escape your cathedral now
The gulls cry alto from the bow
You plant your boots on holy ground
And let the dusk instruct you how
The iron holds your weathered weight
You hum the hymn the rust creates
