The Theory of Gravitation

9.8 meters per seconds squared

You have created in me a fear of falling

A fascination with missteps
And untied shoelace blunders
To wonder

What

It would be like

The complete lack of control
As your face meets with concrete
How a cheekbone shatters
What small shards of skull feel like
Flinging themselves into your brain
What neurons fire

If your stomach drops like on rollercoasters
Or if you hit the ground before the reference can register

In reverence to Newton
I tie my shoelaces tighter
I grab hand rails on staircases
I tread lightly on even salted side walks

Because more than frightening
Falling is fickle
And given this weather
My heart cannot weather such fragility