Between the rungs of
Surrender and despair
I deign to swing
Ruthless obedience and hopeless suspension
Toss me back and forth
As the gravity of imperfection
Driven by wants, disappointments
Bears down on me
Pulling
Pulling
To and fro
If I could propel these limbs toward joy
If I could manufacture flight
Flight of a body without wings
And fallen angel acrobats plummet
Earth-bound again
Trying to find a grip, a strong hold
Upon the security
Of the three-second moment
Where every part of my being
Can feel
The change in momentum
Accelerating
Declining
This constancy of movement
Refuses stillness
It’s own stagnancy
Would take the soul from me
My feet refuse to touch the earth.