Trigger

Needles and pins
fit my moral
compass.

I’ll point
you north;

but it’s
the bearings
surrounding me that
continue to
spin erratically,
on a crash
course with the
tapestry.

At first, vertigo felt
satisfactory, now it’s whiplash
down a wishing well,

a whole other
realm of falling down.

Because the
best of us have
put more
distance between
the ground,

the explosions we trigger
when we get put
through
the ringer
are bigger than anything
they imagined
downstairs.

Evacuate in
pairs, say men who will
never know what it
is to
fall from
the top.

May we never
forget, they
follow up,

but they lack
the
experience to
understand
colliding with
asphalt,

two feet always
on the ground.

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3 thoughts on “Trigger

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