Unpacking Straight Down
The skydiver sighs the whole way
down. Not even the bull could hear
his feet lost in the grass. The colors engulf
him, his parachute wrapped him
for the first time. At some point it will be
time to pack the backpack. It will be
harder than the leap. From above
the Wilson’s lake and into a cow
pasture. Twenty-two hunks of meat
eating and carrying on. It is Tuesday
but could be a Sunday or Christmas
or the morning of their execution.
This gorgeous sight. This floating man.
Who amongst us understands? Who
amongst us isn’t baffled by the yellow
and red and blue and green coming
from his back. To smack a fly
off one’s butt. The skydiver notices
the stench. The skydiver second notices
the sunshine somehow. It is hotter.
The grass. The cows. All radiating
heat like the big mirrors at the YMCA.
Guys avoid eye contact
after an hour of bouncing off one
another. Back to the office. No leap
from a plane. Tomorrow he will figure
out how much to charge a family of four
to protect their home and car and lives.
An envelope will tell them how much
a risk they are. How much are they worth?
*
Breaking Out
Watching a slimy baby animal plummet
into existence today seems bigger than Google
the threshold I crossed in the first place.
I play it gawking mouth open like I want
to eat it already. From one angle of normal
eyes forward head uncrooked it’s amazing
unlike that eating simile. But flipped upside
down head off-kilter I’ve dropped the ball
in feeling vital for being here in this cyberbirth.
Some people watch and some don’t. Still the point:
it’s glorious. In terms of strong will a cow
squeaking a bony baby from it’s vagina is applause-
worthy but so too the fall from that height.
The calf is goo and pain and WHERE AM I
but totally not mulling over the mess.
And how about in the background anti-aware
of what’s in front of him a boy licking cotton candy
his eyes closed. With each lick life gets better.
More poetry at Used Furniture.
