the fall*

does some of it wash away

in the rain

does a part melt

under the heat of the sun

do pieces get blown astray

by the temperament

of the wind

heavy things

dragging heaven's

strings

we slip through teeth

into the darkness

and join

at the centre of the earth

return to me

it cries out

return

and we will be one

once more

the rain comes down

and we pool

together

like

strangers

* Apple Trees (Sketch), by Gerhard Richter.