Let the pieces
fall where they may,
they say.
Let it happen,
they said.
As we
fall downward,
the crescent of the moon
flips us all.
I fall up
with you
in the whirlwind,
where all the chaos
seems to be taking everything
into its
unbelievable mouth.
We seem to float here
in something close to solid,
fine
laughing,
holding onto —
or maybe
being held by —
this see-less
line.
Yeah,
maybe this holds
us
just fine.
We breathe
as if air
just found us,
or at least
that’s what
it feels like:
a first real breath
in,
sigh,
and
out.
Is this what
letting go
feels like?
Weightless,
being
in calamity.
It’s all good,
knowing
I got
you.
