will i fall like up the stairs?

sweat caught between plastic headphones
& eardrums weary of you
sure of my own two feet,
before reaching the top
the steps probably grew an inch or so &
i trip.

will i fall like ingredients?

forehead sweat, the drippiest
too many sprouts in the salad bowl
& the dressing,
i want to distribute the dressing just right
how you like it
but oh there goes a cashew.

will i fall like from a bike?

that stagnant summertime sweat
spit out a bug from between my teeth
then the wobbling,
bruise both my shins
cut open my palms &
you try to squeeze inside like gravel.

when the time comes, how will i fall?
or am i asking the wrong question?
should i stop wondering
how will i fall?
& ask you instead if you'll catch me?

 

This is a poem that I wrote to get my mind off the play I'm working on & now I've procrastinated enough and should get back to the task at hand. But I'm learning that poems are fun & get my unconscious mind going...I'm trying to get work done on top of prepping to leave on my road trip a few days early so this kind of quick 'n' dirty writing is v useful.

That's a picture from my parents' house in Wisconsin...not super relevant but a beautiful view nonetheless.