Like the scalding cup

Of coffee you left

At the brink of the table,

I brim with potential.

I’m bright and unstable

As a just-mopped floor,

I’m a curtain near a candle,

Finger in the door,

A loose axe-handle.

I’m the wrist flicked fast

With no backwards look

Blindly casting

The innocent fishhook.

I’m the toy on the stair,

The hole in the street.

I’m right in plain sight,

I’m under your feet.

I’m over your head:

I’ve got an edge,

And I hang by a thread.

It’s almost time,

And my aim is steady.

You’re falling for me,

I feel it. I’m

Ready.