Somersaults
I made when the clouds
were mine - my feet
had cushions as I
stepped high. I turned
at the top, unwound
like twine; the world
was a ball I could bounce to the sky.  

          Grass was
a heaven I brushed
with my hands, and air
a mountain I learned
to climb. I had
the magic a boy demands
when I went on my walks
heedless of time.

          The world
still topples, but love
for the spill requires
a courage I left
on the ground. If the earth
should fall, it is not mine
to will. I am
still taking walks
but my feet are bound.