Upon Dropping Myself (An Accident)
Not enslaved to the flow of time;
no peril yet for careless hands.
sealed and complete,
I picture it
off the floor,
a fragile capsule
packed with gallons
of linoleum spite.
to burn with it
the miles
up between us and flight
- but gravity, gravity
paves a path
to nearest harbor;
the egg lands on the catch
of my palm’s
bomb-hatch,
wingless.
defused.
a message maydayed to me:
are you tethered to the merest tock?
threatened by the slightest flick of wind?
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2009
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