He fell so gracefully
for a moment it looked liked he meant it.
The fall was perfectly balanced like
the sweep of a dancer’s arm in reverence
or the endless curve at the base of a spine
inviting the hand or head to seek asylum.
The fall from grace can be subtle, a flower
following the sun or sudden as the jerk of the rope.
I never learned what caused his fall
something simple, a mere turn of the screw
or complex as the port de bras.
For me it was the arch of an eyebrow
and blindness in a careless moment.
The Fall
29 Wednesday Aug 2012
Posted poems
in
I am glad to have found your poetry 🙂
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Thank you Ina…I am very happy to have found your poetry as well. I will look forward to seeing your posts in my feed.
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