ManicDDaily

The Circus With the Yellow Clown, 1967, Marc Chagall

Swoop

Some have the trick of swoop; they loop-de-loop
into love; even their arc of catching/being caught trapezes, their leaping
release of grip an elegant show, their hold never easing
over their own sweet selves.

Others fall hard–like clowns–flat
on their prat, splat–
no matter their particular grace, they ace
bumble; fumbling humbly with their offer
of all they are.  (All–
when less might be
more.)

Their swoop occurs in
eyelash–the blink, the wish, the
vow–the wobble
of heartbeat.

And when they leap–the clownish–
their untethered arc ends in an
ignominious tub–too much splash
for tears, too little
to be blue.

(He loved her–it was as simple
and hopeless as that.)

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The above is my offering for The Mag – a blog hosted by Tess Kincaid.  Tess puts up an image each week as a writing prompt.   Check it out.

And while you are checking things, take a look at my books!   Children’s counting book 1 Mississippi -for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms.  Or, if you in the mood for something older, check out Going on Somewhere, poetry, and Nose Dive, escapist fluff.