precipice (falling & the fallen)
"Everyone is a terrorist. Everyone carries a gun in his heart. . . .
For want of a rationale, or courage, we are all assassins."
A Very Private Gentleman, Martin Booth
a man left hanging is not a hanged man
even a fallen man is not falling
when the rope holds him there
swinging against the act of killing
but she did not kill him this time
& failed to destroy what she wanted
to end like nightmares she dreamed
it proved impossible to defy physics
to simply ask a moon to stop orbiting
to will an apple not to drop to the earth
he had been stabbed cut loose & ambushed
but despite the assault his heart was resolute
& ached to toe a ledge just for the peace of it
this hanging-never-turned-to-hanged became
instead a myth weaved from the yarn of riddle:
he wanted only & always her who wanted him
this is the truth of poetry
that stains her lips&tongue
like blackberries&raspberries
& the nectar of her breathkiss
filled his lungs heart & mind
against the creaking branch above
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