in the decision of a beginning 
by Rusty Morrison
No sensation of falling, which suggests that this condition may be flight.
My eyes might be open or not. My coffee poured into a cup or
onto the countertop. This, a ball of saved rubberbands or the thick clot of tremors
I usually keep deep in the drawer that I can trust will stick
when I absent-mindedly forget, and try to open it.
What would it mean for a body to yield?
That is to say, dew moistens the grass and is gone.
The body moves from out of its past with each glimpse of its own
disappearance, cumulatively. With each drop of rain the earth’s atmosphere pelts
its grove of tall cedars and saplings
with equal force. A body
negating itself as an object possessable. To hold one’s breath would be to drown
in order to avoid drowning.