Thirteen ways to fall.

Falling she says. I’m falling.
And in turn I run.
Down the stairs and out the door
Slippers slip-slapping
Shirt-tails flip-flapping.
Crows feet at my eyes and arms outspread.
Like wings.
Heartflutter, mouthsplutter
Invective without directive.
Blood charging through my face.
I’m falling I say.
And sure enough -
I hit the ground full tilt like the world
turned 90 degrees in an instant.

Fallen. Felled. I feel battered, tattered
Beaten, cream-crackered. Harsh breathing.
Focus. There are feet at my face.
Fluffy pink slippers.
You fell she said.
Ouch. I said. You’re observant.
fucker she said.

Banana skin girl big cheesy grin.
All food and sustenance, mead and maul
Big blooming cheeks florid forlorn
Why ? she says.
You fell I said. That’s cheating.
Not the deal we dealt ourselves.

Addressed from on high
Stooden up, dressed down; 
dusted off, turned around.
Sick of being prepositioned,
Conjugated to death
I’m dragged like Peter’s shadow
restitched by Wendy,
flat on my black,
back home.
Where the heart isn’t
(Wasn’t/hasn’t been).
Tense. Nervous. Headache.
She triple locks the doors and windows
Plugs up the plugholes and bricks up the flue.
My father christmas days are over she tells me.