Everything falls: Rome, leaves,
breasts, the apple, shadows across
the city of your good deeds.

The koala out of the tree,
grumpy drunk on eucalyptus,
is the dull ache of your teeth

after yesterday’s drink, sleep
the only cure for life
and muscle-tearing dreams.

What is the name of the soft
knee she gave your groin? Who
owns your memory? Birds see seeds

from killing heights, free
fall with wings tucked then
trimmed, ready against need,

fall out of the sky without
caring, hatred, or kisses,
and land without looking back.