Like drops of rain
Hanging from the ends
Of serrated leaves and metal awnings.
Like the poem whose first line has been written
In indelible ink,
The rest of me must follow,
Pulled by the gravity of an unforgiving core
Thirsting to be whole.
I teteer at the edge.
The whole of me under the weight of me
Gathers under a tiny pinpoint
Struggling to not let go.
Who knew there lies such strength
In touch refusing to yield?
I look up,
Wanting to see the sky I loved so much
For one last time.
The canvas I knew to be blue
Is covered in green and metal,
Each heavy with drops of anguish,
Anger, and disappointment
Jostling for space on the edges of arms
At great distances
From concrete safe houses and comforting trunks of trees,
Each held by a tiny pinpoint of liquid adhesive
Like sweaty surface tension.
I stretch to meet
The touch that allows me to see
The truth of
Skies between leaves,
And other waters that hang like me.
Who knew there lies such freedom
In caress refusing to leave?
Somewhere between holding on
And letting go,