Falling, Slowly

I used to fall like a dropped glass

fast, loud, everyone looking.

﹁﹂

Now it’s slower. Annoyingly slower.

Like stepping off a curb in the rain

and noticing the slickness before the slip.

﹁﹂

You don’t grab me with urgency.

You ask, “You okay?”

As if my answer matters more than your fear.

﹁﹂

We walk home with groceries

and the oranges roll in the trunk,

soft thuds, soft proof of gravity.

﹁﹂

I keep waiting for the old soundtrack

the chase, the heat, the “prove it.”

But you fold your jacket over my shoulders

like it’s normal to be cared for.

﹁﹂

In the elevator mirror

I catch my face trying not to flinch.

It looks almost funny

a person bracing for lightning

in a room that only has light bulbs.

﹁﹂

Some nights I still mistake calm for leaving.

I don’t say it right.

I say it sideways: “Are you mad?”

And you laugh a little, not mean,

Then hold my hand until my pulse agrees.

﹁﹂

If I’m falling, it’s into something steady

And I’m learning the landing can be… quiet.