Floors and Ceilings

The terra mites eat the floor
so you have nothing to reach from
to clean the ceiling, your feet
on rotting wood
swelling and breaking
like Pacific waves
anything but pacific,

your fingertips crawling
to penetrate an overhead plank,
toes and heels searching
the shifting floor for assurance.
Nothing’s firm when the earth
goes out. Heavens, you said,
a clutch of miscomprehension.