Plummet of heart to foot-sole —

Plummet of heart to foot-sole—

Of wing to thinnest skin,
blue strip of still
flowing water—

O for the countless times
I’ve tumbled through that hole
in the floor—

Gold tassels and cord,
billowing skirts, curtains
I thought surely curtains—

Down and into the sooty
dark, so far so far
I thought—

Bring me a measure
of that square of paper
where someone’s drawn

a constellation,
string rosy with knots
of light on which I hoist

myself up and up
as all things must
obey what comes

after the fall

In response to Via Negativa: Dropping.