Fallen

Of course you are cancelling
every appointment we’ve made
and now you are not speaking
in any way we like to call civil
or polite.

Meanwhile I’m
flat on my back
in a supermarket
where I’ve fallen in front of
the prepared foods and salads.

I don’t know how it happened.
No one’s trying to help me, except
for the worker who’s asking
if I need a cart for what scattered
from my arms when I hit the floor.

Of course there’s no point now
to thinking about missed jobs
and phone calls. The ceiling’s 
interesting. A bird’s flying from girder
to girder. He seems certain

of landing where he intends
to land. I’m afraid to rise as
I don’t know if on my feet will ever be
the right place for me to land

ever again. Of course no one’s
calling to offer me a place to land
that’s any safer than on my feet
so I can fall again. I might just stay here 
where having fallen is safer than waiting to fall.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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