In fiction, people who fall

reach up and hold on 

for hours.


It doesn’t work that way: gravity is stronger.

But I can appreciate the image as I

let go of you 




Knowing the fall

will come,

accepting - yet


I hold on a little longer.


Close my eyes once more

call up our image 

wake up your face that

stirs in my memory 

a lover who never 

spent the night -


I want to see it 

just once more.


Like holding on to that slippery brim: it makes

no difference

but every difference


for the blink of an eye.


Prolong the wait

for the fall:

this, too, is life.

The adrenaline of being


swept away.



photo credit: Tim Marshall/Unsplash

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