Gentle Collisions

extract longing.
                                                      fold its edges
in gold paper
                                                      to rest on a scale.

the catapult of one
                                                      plate plummets
the other swings
                                                      bobs and waits
for a leaf of one’s
                                                      want to waft down.

such gentle collisions
                                                      crush more than steel
crack more than bones             upon slight contact.

Copyright © 2015 by Tara Betts. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on December 29, 2015, by the Academy of American Poets.