again—from the top, please—
last night they hung me upside down.
my head grazed along the gravel
and my feet knocked against the stars.
little pendulum, little dreamer. they knew me
before the falling action, before
i missed a beat and the line fell flat.
as the blood rushed to my head
i pretended to like the taste of dirt,
the hard-won gift of it on my tongue.
even after they untied me, i couldn't stand—
pitted holes in my stomach, weeds in my throat.
several branches ago, i was the right way up.