We were dropping
bottles from a rooftop.

Brick smeared across your shoulders,
windows wound all boa about your neck,
rust and yellow in a flashed arabesque.

Such a slurred reflection.

But before the sidewalk shatter,
before the dull slap of labels
heavy with glue and broken glass,
before the sweeps made cleaner streets,

There was that redolent pause,
that brief and brittle down,
that was falling.

Image: chuttersnap on Unsplash

13 thoughts on “Falling

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  1. I love writing and reading stories of poeple. I mean what’s not to love? Stories? Beautiful! People? Extraordinary! I stand by what I always say. You are a master of trascendence my friend. Your pen is magic, it takes you there. Kuods! I loved this very much. 🎈


    Liked by 1 person

      1. So am I, my friend…But revising is productive too! A dry spell can be useful, you finally have the time to piut all your ducks in a row. Just a tad scary. You know how dogs think you’ve abandon them forever every time you the leave the house? That’s how I feel when my inspiration leaves my brain! I hope it comes back to me soon. As for you there is no doubt that it will!
        Happy poetic nip and tuck!


        Liked by 1 person

  2. Hiya Brock, I am a virgin to the site – just it sit idle while cramming WOL. I like this poem as it is that sense of immediacy and forensic quality that comes through in your work! Thanks for following me too…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hello, Ray,

      I noticed you hadn’t populated this space, but in case you do, I wanted to make sure you showed up in my feed. I’ve been prowling around WoL to keep up with my favorite writers there, never logging in, just reading. I enjoyed your “Death of Words” piece immensely. It is very well-written and heartfelt.



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