My glasses sit on top of a book.
The book sits on top of a chair seat.
The chair seat sits on top of the chair’s legs.
The legs sit on top of the carpet.
The carpet sits on top of the carpet pad.
The carpet pad sits on top of the concrete slab.
The concrete slab sits on top of the topsoil.
When the Campi Flegrei Caldera heaves the bed rock skyward,
I will be forced to rearrange this poem’s lines.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney