The Drop

The curb was a lie,

a flat plane turned steep.

My foot caught air,

then the road rose up,

fast,

unyielding.

That hard pull,

the planet's rough hand,

yanked me down

to its gritty brand.

My knee

met the asphalt's rough face.

A quick, sharp disgrace.

The world

held me,

for a breath,

in its keep.