Controlled Falling

Where the contact is the most intense

Between the obvious and the obscure,

That graceless or graceful turning point

(Which one will it be now?) happens

In the step I take down the stairs, foot

Reaching out, the metaphor of the grasp

Of the hand, touching down there,

Wood solid enough, sinew, bone and

Flesh solid enough, to hold me upright,

To bend, and take on the mortal day.