It’s the Question of What-To-Do Being Done

it’s an edge you’d never jump
it’s a chasm you cannot clear –

being pushed, you had no choice.
now, in the air between two places

you’re looking forward and looking back
suspended slow-motion between them

you know no matter how this ends
there will be something sacrificed

something fragile cracked and shattered
& maybe like a cloud, you’ll rain for days

split the earth and drip your nectar
deep into the dirt, sprouting some-

thing sweet and scented, colorful.
or maybe the sky will turn its face

and you’ll fall, you’ll fall until the crack
of bones on rock resounds through

Time and canyon walls. remember how
you spread your arms like wings and

closed your eyes, just knowing: it’s a
matter of time? just wait, you told your-

self as your toes traced the edge like
a solid silent line, the sharp of a knife

unmistakable message saying:
YOU ARE HERE but warning

NOT FOR LONG. so, suspended
you’re looking out & you’re looking

in. the world beneath you turns at
invisible alarming rates as fingers

reach to pull you down hard: gravity.
you are a storm cloud, you are bones

you are the whisper of a moment
come and gone and always going

somewhere new and undiscovered.
here in-between you spread your

arms like wings and grin and wait.

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