Given How They Fall



The Thirty-One Days of Poetry (2013 Edition)

Day - the Seventh






Given How They Fall




Given how they fall, he never looks. 
Their deaths are shared with him, 
a communal event; his will made flesh 
(more like the will of whoever is paying 
him and torn flesh), but an intimate 
bonding experience all the same.

So, the dying is not done alone, 
no matter what the stories say. 
(Plus, not for nothing, but when 
one fires a Nagant M1895 Revolver 
with a Cobra M2 Sound Supressor 
attached, it behooves one to look at, 
that which, or who, one aims.)

But the fall.....

A man chooses how he dies. 
Perhaps not the manner, shark 
attack vs. in bed with the whole
cheerleading squad, but how to 
face that death. Like a man, 
with firm jaw and unwavering 
gaze, or screaming in terror like a
gibbon-fool on his first roller coaster. 

A man may choose, to an extent, 
how he dies, but not how he falls. 
Never are we more vulnerable than 
during the fall, when life and liberty 
have finally and fully been deprived. 

Given how they fall, he feels a duty to them, 
to whatever shed of humanity he has left.
The dying they do together. 

The fall is left to them alone. 











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.....and we all fall down



4 comments:

Ruby said...

My favorite this year. So far.

Hyperion said...

I should do more poems with murder in them.

Ruby said...

All poems should have murder in them.

Hyperion said...

Indeed. (Or Indead, if you prefer.)