a fall.

The season is full of drama. While leaves pupate to wait for the orange metamorphosis, one person is already on its erratic way up like a drowning man clawing at thick water. Ah! air is too viscous, the limb is dead heavy (or) air is too thin

futile wing-beats           in vacuum,                 fluttering                                    heartbeats in body of cloth-

– anyway this creature, this light-seeker, strength of the flare running from beacon to beacon, great-heart Icarus gasping, straining, stretching, reaching, rising to take first real breath, actually, almost, can’t quite–

When did it happen?

                                                                once again the moth

                                drifting down

                                                                                                                light as ashes

                     or else smallest of pebbles

                                                                casually flicked from shore to lake

                bouncing once

                                                                                                                                                                          twice on the 

    surface, then

                                                sinking softly to the dark

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One thought on “a fall.

  1. jemzlinde says:

    The seventh or eighth attempt to format this properly. Still not entirely happy with the visual aspect but formatting poetry on this site makes me foam at the mouth, so this will have to do.

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