A Poem By Adam Boles

Aubade While Falling

           From here,
the smallest increment above
the sheet, I plummet. We know the law:
we are all repulsive. Nothing
touches anything else.
           A café and some version
of you, impatient, dressed in furs,
but this alleyway circuit board. I never
know who’s chasing me.
           Define close as nearby
though not imminent: you are close,
but not here
. The warm vacuum
between us, not your skin,
but the sensation of force. I am
a magnet. I am a pole.
           In this mountain
village, gravity is a lie we tell
to feel connected. I know what’s
coming. Pigeons
scatter. Nothing solid in the stairwell.
From this height, I watch you leave
the table. Have faith: when I
jump from this balcony, or fall,
I will keep on falling, will never
touch the ground.

Adam Boles lives and works in Tallahassee, FL. He holds an MFA from Florida State University’s Creative Writing Program.

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