Senses fail me
when I dangle myself from
the second story of our
red and brown house

Could this be when
everything comes out?
Worms with bats and
wicked little smiles
pummeling my mass with
joy(?)
As I swing on a line like
an empty pinata?

Your protection comes
you think
from your sticks in hand
and my feet off the ground

But be sure:
When I climb down I
I climb down to my feet.
You, contrarily, will
crawl back to your favorite
holes, again.