598 Readings | 4 Ratings
Elegy With A Rope In It
You survived all those little jumps,
testing gravity from a rooftop’s height,
feet swinging out, trench coat wings
flapping. How you got on all those roofs,
we’ll always wonder.
Gabriel Dante Cabasco Cebrian—
Your name is a river we wade in,
glacial fed and swilling,
the current pulling
at our legs, asking the question
rivers are always asking: why?
Rivers circle back on themselves
in so many ways,
water rising so it might, once more, fall.
This has worked for as long
as it has worked, but you chose to dismantle
the circle.
You used ropes—
the creaking twine
left to repeat itself in sway,
the groan and rasp of fibers learning
the strength of your neck.
And only now, years later, do I see
that all those leaps weren’t
only practice—that you never meant
to reach the ground.
testing gravity from a rooftop’s height,
feet swinging out, trench coat wings
flapping. How you got on all those roofs,
we’ll always wonder.
Gabriel Dante Cabasco Cebrian—
Your name is a river we wade in,
glacial fed and swilling,
the current pulling
at our legs, asking the question
rivers are always asking: why?
Rivers circle back on themselves
in so many ways,
water rising so it might, once more, fall.
This has worked for as long
as it has worked, but you chose to dismantle
the circle.
You used ropes—
the creaking twine
left to repeat itself in sway,
the groan and rasp of fibers learning
the strength of your neck.
And only now, years later, do I see
that all those leaps weren’t
only practice—that you never meant
to reach the ground.
Posted 07/01/10