Taking the plunge into a Monday-morning poem.
|Go Ahead and Jump|
Somewhere underneath the shade
of rose-spotted Nepenthes pitchers,
parched lips puckered and retracted
like a clownfish out of water—me
without you. Standing at rounded edge,
your eyes fell headfirst down
into the pools of promising
refreshment I could not measure up to.
One slip and it was too late for us;
that mistake sent you tumbling to hazy
forgetfulness where the only thing
that mattered was that you
were no longer thirsty.