Trapeze

Lostness bursts into the day

like a bright trapeze

and you grasp it on the upswing,

howl through the air.

Fine. You’re more acute alone

anyway, striking a match,

stalking a cloud, trying to align

your functional body

with all the stories it still

wants to tell.

Expectations trill and purl,

sweet beasts that belong

in cages. Let them pace.

How violent and heartless

you are up here, how led

by your own blindness.

It is impossibly gorgeous

to slice the sky, to let go

with potential and swing

to stillness and fictitious force.

Your body now an exclamation mark,

full stopped in a shout:

I am not here!

No, I am here,

I am here,

see me.