Fall

Surrender to gravity.

Avatar (1947) by Dorothea Tanning

I was often looking away, but we were the beautiful thing, together. Not me alone and not you alone, but us: wound up comfortably into a tangled mess, speaking our native tongue. You took whatever I had – a box of rocks, a fist full of grass, a bad drawing, a bag leaking sand – and you told me it was the best thing, the …