Non-Fall Boy & His Opposite (a prose poem for you all)

Non-Fall Boy & His Opposite

When you fell I was looking at too many other boys who had fallen before you. I studied their jaws, hips, and fractures, smiles and tongues and toenails, and you slipped past the statues, cracking more than your intentions on the way down.

After your voice I was sold on trying. I want to pretend that the WAR is separate from our DNA, the particles we call love, but I can’t help thinking that WAR spelled backwards is RAW, and my heart feels grilled in some barbecue tribal ritual. We chose each other uncooked: will this be our salvation?

Now I capture you, always. I flick a switch and turn you into a compass, a shard of mirrored glass, a playground friend. Walk with me; I’ll hold you up; we’ll shimmy past churches and stained glass heroes. We’ll construct our gates from the carousel horses and discarded dolls, plywood and fishing hooks, creaky dreams and timeless seams. I am your (non-) fall boy.

Copyrighted by Nathan Buck 2007