aerialist

[aslant]

he's still as tall as ever,
the love of your life,

not quite bearable up there.
impossible to ignore

like a burrow, pit
already fallen into,

or a scratch in the skin
purple then gold,

haphazard then designed.
his first act was

matter-of-fact;
the second act crackled

like alcohol over ice;
and now the penultimate:

all eyes on the ceiling,
the equator

between you two,
a cathedral of air and nerve.

mark yakich
01 fall
gumball poetry