Louisville Ladder

the past, a dead-fly-covered 
old iPhone box, filled with cables
I "might use one day."

the present, hot as a coffin
kept in a Florida attic,
will be tossed in the sea soon.

the future, an inveterate autumn,
despite the duct tape,
another name for the past. 

time, a paint-splattered ladder 
leaning in the cobweb corner,
waiting to be climbed.