Essay On Falling (Insert Poem Here)
We would be holding on to gasping root, dangling ourselves out into the sky, we
didn’t know it would be this way
insert poem here
where I can cup the air in the small of your back in an
attempt to navigate
insert poem here
you are curling your toes to hold on to your slip on shoes.
you don’t know where we’re going either, we didn’t know
that by holding all this air between us we were starving others of it
it’s love that gets caught up between the oxygen
it’s love that gets stretched out and I, I would like to take you
we are the world so popped.
they didn’t know, the scientists, your doctors, my ghosts – they didn’t know that
the world would eventually pop, and in would flood space
in the way one day it came in, the ozone parted and space flooded the ground
the dark came in, cool and you’re shivering
space came in and fell and
insert poem here
from heaven, a patch above our love
it was us, we burned it through with our
space leaning in, black deep piercing the busy apple skin
there was always a chance we’d have to give up everything to be this close
there is always a chance that there’s slipping grips when the vacuum of space pulls at us
and we are here in the sweating grass,
this tree reaches its hand out and over to us in some last final praise and I think
I say you should slip off your shoes, we may be home
I think we should just hold on to one another and leap by letting go
you know, insert poem here.
The speed of gravity is one point eight over eight per second
and there’s a way to dangle outward to space I think were
I could be my face to your face
insert poem here, between some stars
which singe us
us in search for our old little sun under earth – that good low heat,
that prickle love snatched close between heart-thrums.
It’s a hidden light that we read these poems by
and I love in the heat and hope
letting go with you will be fruitful – that peach jewel and orange
gem split from rind by long opening fingers
trailing us out into the void, ever quenched because like me this
earth would have given you anything
and yes I have always wanted to
and yes the body is insecure, unlocked and insert poem here.
What We Can See From Here
Over there, through the frame of the hide
half man half elk out there in the wildgrass,
out there a hero’s descent by rope
and how did we get in here anyway?
A triad of monsters to wait out I guess
whenever I look to the country I see them fighting
what are we doing with our time in the hide
but enjoying the view, and keeping our heads low?
I have read about many things springing
in times like these, us shrugged in these
inhabited lands where the giants were
[stretching] toward the west an
equal number of tribes on each side.
Look, maybe it’s our turn as we are looking
Look, men who have heads in their breast,
moth-headed boys – all wonderfully shapen
and we can count them out from here like
the distance of that coming thunder. Oh,
so devastating were these inroads that
they have to fork at all
Look, placed on the shore of the black water:
an imaginative author, famous for painting
a dead horse I overheard, the book of monsters
and in this sea there are many islands;
us, designated only as maps – for
where else would we get our designation? Except
from the peoples who have dwelt between
our rising inks, our blurred boundaries and –
Look, these snatched moment are marked down
with both our eyes and later accounted for as scribal blunders,
It’s fine for the people between the boundaries
It’s understood that such a late date would make
the poem contemporary and in want of the attractive quarry.
But then maybe this waiting is a work of art,
Christopher John Eggett is a writer from Cambridgeshire trying to live close to water. He writes a literary newsletter and blog called Etch To Their Own which you can sign up for here and read online here. He tweets here and you can read more about him on his website.