Joy Mar

Falling into and apart

Grab for edge, reach for control
time, standing still, does astound
as into rabbit hole, descend
further and further into it
free-floating over ground.

SCAD diving, Dallas-bound
carabiner-tethered tightly
trick of memory, wide-open shut
hard-drive found, trivial dumped
every detail, thumps down, glut.

Some fall into adventure
some into the abyss.

Go ask Alice!

Reaching terminal velocity,
felines plummet from stories high
landing with minimal injuries
walking away, do not die when
cat-a-day falls from clear blue sky.

Defenestration, cats survived
stories, fewer than 5, greater than 9
gathered statistics analyzed, full.
And, physicist consulted, Why?
Loss suffered greatest at peak pull.

How high the ascent determines
how hard the fall.

Go ask Alice!

Once equilibrium has been found
cruising speed handily obtained
like flying squirrel, legs spread apart
heart slows, tummy to the ground
safe touchdown skillfully gained.

Gravity effect expertly turned off
as knowledge of motion found
in curvature of space and time
living on the curve, its slope
hugging life’s contour sublime.

Position taken impacts
gravity’s pull.

Go ask Alice!

Falling forward, timing task
information deliver, receive
calibration, from feet to brain
signals to send, signals retrieve
impulses play in movement’s game.

Aging makes one pay the price as
nerve-sheath damage makes a call
corrective command now is needed
else stumble forward or take a fall.
Afterward, can’t remain the same.

Standing straight and tall
reduces risk to fall.

Go ask Alice!

In black hole’s extreme gravity
no survival, death before disappear
when pull at foot is so much greater
and feet fall faster than one’s head
death’s mayhem, un-avoided, draws near.

Initially, feels like stretch, feels good
until tidal forces exceed flesh bindings
snapped into two pieces, torso survives,
bifurcates into atomic stream, then
squeezed, through space fabric extruded.

What you can’t see can hurt you
so the proverb should go.

Go ask Alice!
I think she’ll know…

© Joy Martin

Southern-born, Joy now makes her home in New England.  Her poems explore the many facets of life, including her and broader humanity’s place and challenges within it.