Freefall

On days like this
I paint a smile on my face
that doesn’t reach my eyes
but you wouldn’t know

I stitch myself together –
Frankenstein, a wind-up doll –
though I’d rather be under the duvet
curled like a foetus

The howling wind
and rotting leaves
a reflection of my mind
where monsters dance

This conveyor belt life
of crumbling flesh
clipped wings
and rotten apples

A heart crusted
with lingering hurts
rusted with lost potential
and closed avenues

F
R
E
E
F
A
L
L

to the close of the coffin
the sound of the earth turning
cries of newborns
ejected from the womb

What you wouldn’t give
for a chance over
a blank sheet
renewal