A little Dandelion seed floating in the black space beyond a door with a light shining on it
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The Law of Falling Bodies

A poem for Wednesday

where M is the mass of my brother’s body
falling after he pulled the trigger.
And here we are, bound to Earth’s pull
downward. His knees hit the floor first.
I rose quickly from my bed, knowing
the distance was too great, like those dreams
where you run and run
but the space just keeps expanding.
This fall is a short vertical distance,
with little resistance now, the time
for resistance is over. Size and geometry
matter, but the angle
of his face tilted toward mine
when I enter the room does not factor.
Let’s go to the moon, let’s go anywhere
where the rules do not apply,
where a hammer and a feather
are equal. Let’s go farther,
like the deepest part of my mind
where he will always be falling,
or farther still, where a bullet divides
the distance between so slowly
that it takes his whole life to get there.