Stone Against Stone

Inside feels tight. Pushed through the sliding balcony door. Cold concrete underfoot. Found a thick terracotta flower pot squatting against the rail. Dry earth inside, heavy dead root. Wrapped both arms around the rough clay rim. Squeezed. Lifted with my thighs. Scraped it forward six inches, grinding grit across the balcony floor. Then hauled it flush against the outer parapet. Stepped right onto the soil. Rose up. Forearms resting flat on the concrete parapet edge. Wind hits hard out here. The open courtyard and distant roofs stretch beneath my chest. Nobody can push me off this perch.