The cable traces the treacherous line
Between falling and falling.
Up on the high ropes,
Tottering tree to tree,
Everything’s sharp air and
The blur of faded faces.
Strapped into suburban security in
The harness I never need,
I hear a stranger’s heart thrumming in my throat.
I’m frightened of these props that sustain me,
Helping me to be more,
Keeping me at less.
Tricked on by some dumb dog of faith, tail wagging far below, I
cross toward my moment of magnifi cence,
Reaching for the next rope
And holding on desperate as new love,
Teetering on that precarious trust
That two humble minutes can be this grand,
That along the edge between death and dust
Lies a narrow path to a warmer land.›