Lessons in Gravity
When he first held me
I believed the ball would fly
that I could cut the tether
holding it to earth
I could replace the slap
of leather with a slap of my own.
Contact
might bleed greatness
into my grain.
I shifted with his hips
felt his front foot land soft
on the earth, felt him choke
me and weight returned
heavier for having hoped.
When he first held me
I believed the ball would fly
that I could cut the tether
holding it to earth
I could replace the slap
of leather with a slap of my own.
Contact
might bleed greatness
into my grain.
I shifted with his hips
felt his front foot land soft
on the earth, felt him choke
me and weight returned
heavier for having hoped.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson