The Second Fall

A poem of disassembly

This is the way the world ends — riding an Escher escalator right back to the beginning — I’ve been a dustpan for far too long — unscreamed screams make monster shapes on the wood-grain EZ-lock vinyl flooring — me twisted — no longer your broom — and I wonder again about eternity — how moments eat their own tails

This is the way the world ends — chasing petals as they fall — one by wilted one — a most-delicate abacus — tic tock, tic tock — no one wants to believe they’ll live to see it —yet it seems my shoes are tied together — and the dirt smells like birthing — once again, a fine place to lay my head

This is the way the world ends — not with a bang, clangs the chain — all the things that didn’t work last time — rattling like Marley’s ghost, like a runaway dog, like a gang condemned — but — surely not us: we are chosen — by middle-class birth, by American steel — by Right, by Left — by whimpers.

This poem was written in response to Galit Birk, PhD’s September Writing Prompt in Being Known, bringing to light our need for connection in these times of anxiety.

Lines in italics are borrowed from T.S. Elliot’s The Hollow Men.

Vixen Lea is a mother to two small children and a number of animals, but first and foremost she is a human struggling to hang on to joy and presence. Poetry helps her remember who she was before juice boxes, laundry and playdates.She is in the process of assembling her first book of collected works, Unexpected Alchemy, due out by the end of 2021. Her writing has appeared in Flying Island literary journal, The Manifest-Station, and can be found on her blog wakinguprazzledazzle.com.

For some lighter work by Vixen Lea, check out