Green composition, Wassily Kandinsky, 1923

the eyebrows and the eyelashes
are out of order,
the moon is pock-marked,
I’m standing on a tilting plane
about to tip over and fall
helter-skelter into a heap,
the muted tones
of the patchwork checkerboard
give me hope of balance
while I don’t look at the abyss
opening on the right