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.