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



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



This constancy of movement

Refuses stillness

It’s own stagnancy

Would take the soul from me

My feet refuse to touch the earth.

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