Nightfall by Neil Flatman

Nightfall

Up here, it’s easy to imagine:
Gordian knot as slip – solved.
The writhing, somewhere
between gravity and desire
where decisions possess
infinite weight. It’s knowing
you could that draws the eye
to the pool, lights affirming
stillness through the blue.

When Martyn leapt they said
he was high, dancing, tripping,
but I think he’d lost the knack
of himself, balance, how to ride.
I could never have known
he was falling, he seemed so fixed
in place, but the ripples closed
in until they found him.

by Neil Flatman

Editor’s Note: Peering down into an abyss does not have to be dark. Sometimes the abyss is filled with light and deception.