8 February, 2024
Free Fall
36 feet of earth risen from the ground.
Sometimes the earth itself
raises a hand in prayer.
Sand spilling down its face, the hill
across the blacktop from our cheap apartment
sang invitation. Sang freedom. So
we ran, clambered up its almost impossible
angle until we stood
perched atop a lip of dirt as thin
and crisp as light. The wind in our hair.
A choir of insect leg sirens titillating
the open space below us.
Nothing between us and the ground
but sand as fine as a beach arc,
just enough to catch a body in motion.
We ran over and over into nothing.
Filled the sky with our fall,