Rise to me

 

 

Everything racing upwards

The falling object
Is a bomb
Tumbling end over end
Sleeping city below

It is a pheasant
Plucked from the air
By the hunter’s shot
bird dog already in motion

A flame tailed meteor
Breaking apart on entry
But not nearly enough
Extinction level event

Raindrops in a forest glade
Bringing forth tentative life
Then floods
Slate wiped clean

The falling object
Is a world void of direction
Or any definable purpose
Selfies in the bathroom mirror

The falling object
Looks like me.

 

 

©2017

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4 thoughts on “Rise to me

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