Falling Down

After the winnowing, the broken branch
the broken bone set with a rope and stick
the limp homeward, a sharp metallic taste
overpowering the scent of apple

along the way, rush of blood becoming
steam and wheeze.  Adolescent ritual
a thrust toward manhood, the plummet and rise
an accidental marriage of intent.

Each fall an awful turning of season;
the withered leaf a badge of disrepute
redeemed in a returning to the soil
of fractured memory, fading, fading . . .

to be reborn without sin, unaware
of the fatality of consequence.

JeanPaul Jenack



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