as I. Without a parachute
I cannot fly.  And land so hard
I broke apart. My arm a tree
branch limb that couldn't swing

or swim. My leg a rolling
log, without a foot to jump or
jog. This head a bowling
ball. Eyes and tongue just

loll. My chest a hollow
stump that sits there like
a lump. It doesn’t hold a beat,
cold as rain and sleet. The sun

rises and sets. The sky full
of clouds and contrails
from the jets. And the frost lost
its bite, since I fell from the height.