Pulling up – Poem

he hit the ground, and people
never remembered him
for whole anyhow.
Shards of white
exoskeleton all over
the cement.

He was handsome, that
Humpty Dumpty, and
worth the rescue effort.

I told him he didn’t
need to keep leaping–
that one day it would
be too much.

The experiment was one
with gravity: could the
force pull hard enough
to unlatch the disappointment
he had become?

The experiment was flight.

His fathers’ men
never knew him like I did.
And they linked and mislinked
his flesh.

The problem is that
this planet is a giant tetherball
swinging back and forth
through space. Sometimes
it’s all centripetal
glee, but it always returns
to center.

Now that center has no
Eggman, and I’m sitting here
on the wall, pulling up.


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