gravity's weight

i stand just outside the door on that clear cold night
my breath in a hasty cloud leaves me
as i face the truth, again
of what happens, again
when you stretch out and rest the weight of love,
like testing the thin ice on the edge of the pond
hearing the crack you look down
and staring up through the blurry ice is a face
and it once was the face of your beloved, gone cold now,
not uncaring, just past caring,
and that's when the breath leaves your body,
stolen by the falling whirlpool in your soul,
a missed last step with no floor beneath,
and then i turn, and turn, to the sky and face the implacable beauty,
the diamond sharp flutes of stars in gauzy rapture,
torn by forces unimaginable,
gravity's weight in my chest

copyright 2001 - jem moore