He opened the drawer and somewhere
the cars of a roller coaster started ascending.
Allyship as reassurance: there's always someone
else in the roller coaster car. He brought out the soft
black purr of cord and I felt
for the lap bar.
He wrapped my wrists like a gift.
Cradled them with hungry eyes as his hands did loops
my coaster car sunrise crescendoing up
and up and there is a moment
when the peak of the hill is in sight
and I know (don't I?) what's coming.
Seconds are lifetimes, look over my shoulder I can just
where I came from,
the earth, my home, my family, my death --
no one's ever asked at the peak did I check
the lap bar
What a disarming question that would be
so I feel prepared for the plunge.
He surgeoned the last knot,
tucked pretzled ends in
with a mother's care, pushed my arms up
above my head
“Can you get loose?”
I tried. Disarmed. And then:
Gravity unmade, stomach bloomed in my throat, heart
clung to my teeth, blood bullied my face I was there
in the car I was weightless, flying powerless and loving
surrender, feeling windthrilled and released, falling
elated with no net, we were waterfall and
rocks below, a most holy disaster, crashing safer
has ever will ever be whir click been.