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.