antigrav

There's no longer any place
for me to fall.

Even my mother's thorny embrace
has been relegated to graveyards,
though her spines still prod my exertions.

I've been bred to mistrust
so that now I shy away
from friend and foe alike.

My body is an iron frame
spun with medals -
dangling from the hangman's post,

and I have no soft place to fall,
only the harsh linoleum in my kitchen.