To Fall
My father is convinced that
a World Trade Center jumper appears
in an animated movie.
He claims the moment a boy
threw himself off a tower
was traced from a falling man’s image.
My father is sure of this,
but I don’t think he remembers
what it is like for one to fall.
He forgot how the Hanged Man’s back
bends on the card, how fear-stricken
he is when the rope loosens and
he realizes he isn’t reversed.
He forgot how one’s feet point
like they’re Odette on the cliff,
forgoing her ability to fly
so she can commit to her despair.
He forgot how Lucifer also probably
looked the same during his plunge,
feathers blackened and
realizing it’s warmer away from the sun.
My father is convinced of
his conspiracy, but I don’t think
he’s realized just how
close he has been to falling.
After Kim Garcia
Alex Carrigan (he/him) is a Pushcart-nominated editor, poet, and critic from Virginia. He is the author of “May All Our Pain Be Champagne: A Collection of Real Housewives Twitter Poetry” (Alien Buddha Press, 2022), and “Now Let’s Get Brunch: A Collection of RuPaul’s Drag Race Twitter Poetry” (Querencia Press, forthcoming 2023). He has had fiction, poetry, and literary reviews published in Quail Bell Magazine, Lambda Literary Review, Barrelhouse, Sage Cigarettes (Best of the Net Nominee, 2023), Stories About Penises (Guts Publishing, 2019), and more. For more information, visit carriganak.wordpress.com or follow him on Twitter @carriganak.
Image: Jeffmock, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
