EARLY MORNING BALLOONS OVER MELBOURNE

Unearthly in the chill blue

they hang silent, coldly lovely

until there’s that lurching

belch of gas fire

and suddenly

they’re everything I’m afraid of –

heights, ice, other people in rocking space,

my own helpless helpless

fragility.

Why, when I dream of danger,

can I never just reach out

and grab

the rising feet

of a phoenix?