NaPoWriMo Day 10

 Day 10, Love

How it falls, love,

how it falls, like a clumsy child

that couldn't tie its shoelaces,

and the pavement knows. The shock

in the palms is real.

how it falls, but upwards

in the cornering bus, you all

impatient to sit up at the top,

the city laid before you like a picnic,

the too red of late strawberries.

how it falls, like late leaves,

the precise shade of old gold

how did you ever live in the antiquity

with their mystery gods,

with their dear rituals?

how it falls, like cosmonauts

who perform their daily tasks

with slow precision, but always

giddy at this weightlessness-

and home seems so much smaller

how did you fall, before

your turn , how did you fall

when it was your turn? The dull

of gravity, unless you were a bird,

if you were a bird, love, then you soared.