Things Fall by Ed Hack

Things Fall

Things fall. You forgot what they do. The knife
off of the paper plate. The tool from your
cramped hand. And once, foot of the stairs, your wife.
Years later now, you still look at the floor
and wonder what or who is next. You used
to say that’s one thing floors are for. A joke,
an irony, you thought, then got the news
about how life just flies away, and hope,
like crumbs, like fat, like bones is what remains,
the ash of things, the penny that you find.
What’s left of rain is stuck in screens, and pain’s
your new best friend. The second hand’s design
is fall from 12 to 6 then climb from 5
to 12. Things fall, and you are still alive.

by Ed Hack

Editor’s Note: This heart-wrenching sonnet begins with deceptive imagery before turning to absolute grief at the end.

4 thoughts on “Things Fall by Ed Hack

  1. True! Do you send Autumn Sky things occasionally? I think I would have titled this “Fall Risk.” My dad used to say, especially while watching the kids in their high chairs spilling food, “Nothing can fall any farther than the floor.”

    Sent from my iPad

    >

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.