Poem: Trapeze as Mode

Scalding water
and my limbs folded
clattering round
Rib cages caught
as a blushing stage
magician stuck mid trick.

An acumen of fingers
looped, released to
the nightly preparation
for death, who is far
more impatient than even me.

Philosophers socialise
sharp objects thrown
at fortune like a toy
meant to bruise.

Sunk and held
my exit escapes us,
the canopy struggles,
winter has ground me.
All granules  and
gel propped
by spinal cords
of necessity -

Each every
sensation n
speaks to a taught
line locked
talking to
line strung
ingested.

Memory comes striding
here, an unexpected
trip on your step
regathered among
the messages of
feathers read
as drafted
correspondences,
the ringing that
yet catches.