on edge

photoart & poem ~ ©2018 ~ Laura Granby

So I sit on the edge, wagging my feet above the abyss” – Jim Harrison

seated as a half-pint child
feet far from the floor, feeling out the fun
limbs let loose as broken elastic
with each forward swing, bright, white socks
momentarily seen, like washing on a windy line
there is regularity, a percussive rhythm
piano and forte playing on chair legs
tut-tut-tutting adults – and the reverie breaks
I’m weighted to this ledge with a heavy heart
a fixed far-ahead eye pinpoints panic
how hypnotic the infinite downrush of an abyss
a succubus of souls, temptation for even a saviour
to test belief in rescuing angels

Joining Jilly for her Harrison prompts and Day 8 of 28 Days of Reason

15 Comments on “on edge

  1. That pivot is astounding and heart wrenching and so effective! The view in both directions makes this poem one of your strongest ever! Outstanding!


  2. Nice how you swing us from “loose as broken elastic” happiness of childhood to the downward rushing loss of adulthood. Love the last line.


    • quite a mood contrast but the ‘wagging’ word set the initial tone followed by the abyss – the last line rose up quite out of the blue – thank you


  3. I can see this child, and I also felt this had a seamless twist–lurch?– to the edge.
    Like you and Jane, I can still swing my legs. Yay for the shorties. 🙂


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