for those who were not born a butterfly

he tripped
and fell and fell and fell and fell
unpredictable
like blood on the gums
on the precipice
like sea birds
falling falling falling falling falling
like letter openers
like samurai swords
and fall and fall and fall and fall
as if they had already occupied
the place of the dead
like a falling body
no vertigo
no free falls
no films that melt on the screen
he tripped over himself...