this ladder

this ladder,
with all its metaled
rungs, pulled up
by a rope,
hold you
upright, slanted against
another house
in the july
sun.
one hand grips a sill
while the other
dips a brush into a bucket
before
sliding it across
the dry wood.
your knees bend in the open
air, your
shins pressed against
the steel
for balance.
the world is a precarious
place
to live in.
slowly you go down.