The unbearable lightness of being

Ears half in,
I'm afloat, undulating      on the minute
waters gush.

For clouds strung pendulous,
lightness comes with a duty      at the end of the noose.

What is a freefall
when not poisoned      by a drop
of doubt?

As a spider squatting upside-down,

how will I bear the silken weight of the web?

The final poem comes

holding on to the eaving
breath in a susurrus
without punctuation
perhaps
the only secret in a life
unwritten,

the sweetness of first milk hovers like a presence

among the various ominous aerial metaphors

for air-borne diseases like forgetting

if there was a choice, as if.