falling

1

I was born on Saturday.

Turned 30 on Monday.

The days between, a blur.

Especially nought to four

and the early 20s

when breast and bottle was everything.

 

2

I’ve said before: I recall

crawling across the floor,

soiling the moment, thinking

Shit. Again!

 

A nought to four experience I think/

I hope/ I know the blood that came

like a spring after rain, came

from the mouth, the source;

found the gap,

 

out to sea. I’d turned 3 and got

3 stitches to match. This hurt,

after the buzz of the honey tree.

 

3

I know the slow trek across the desert,

camels, horses; long-legged birds

at the water; crocodile, hippopotamus;

the speared fish caught in the rip,

dragged by the net; the furtive

glance of primate: I climbed a tree

and disturbed the colony.

 

4

At 15 I hung from the curved

branch of an apple tree; slid

down in slow coils, and you fell,

on all fours, my girl.

 

I remember your chestnut curls,

the reddening skin, still pale, I skimmed;

and him, he stood erect,

petrified. We swooned, and he too

fell.

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4 thoughts on “falling”

  1. good rhymes again… and the memory carried off from poo pants to growing up how things stick has me wondering about the building of ‘self’ all day.

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