We watch as love is
tied to the falling trapeze
your hands only capable of holding
the cogs of your own knees
We have warmed our palms
on the sweat and the open-eyed love
that you let rise
like the snowy mountains
You know you’ll fall down
inevitable as the explosive tingle
of the letdown sneeze
You know you’ll fall down
when you look down
when it wears off
when you start to care
You know later
you’ll need more touching
than stars mesmerizing
in you hair
Come down come down
rooted to this chair
to limits of growth,
bedtime stories
and small things of home
Come down come down
before you fall down
because if you fall down
we’ll never dare step up again
above our footstools
Whilst you are up
our palms shiver
like the ultra-violet cups
of caverned mushrooms
When you’re down
we’re both morose
fetid sweat of fear and hope
smells the same,
it’s too close to call.
When you’re down
and you’re falling
never lose sight
of my promise to hold
out my hand.
there is a quiet, somber, sweetness to this…begs to question.. you promise?
When we’re falling there’s times when a hand is more than a promise and a promise is more than a hand…
Don’t know if it makes any sense, to me, the language of poetry surpasses logic.
makes perfect sense..