Plummeting headfirst, F, the upside down man,
begins his journey with limbs splayed
like paint on a Jackson Pollock.
Finally, he curls into a ball, tucked up tight.
He retreats to the comfort of the fetal position
wrapped in himself, around himself, with himself.
And then down, down, down he goes
where he stops the splatter shows.
It’s a matter of perspective whether or not
the fall is short or long. Does he clip
off the L swiftly to get to the end or does he hold it
as down, down, down he goes.
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