The First One Fell (ef)

The first one fell without remorse
a hint of smile on its facet
it was never alone
even on impact
its undirected course
the only felony incurred:
the stealing of the autumn lawn and the untintended ankle
sprained at indelicate landfall
askew, but only the first one knew
the exhilaration, the acceleration.
If one will do it the others will too,
that for all the friends who jump off bridges
because the other friend, too, knew-
it takes an eon to reach the ground...
as if each tiny hand to another’s hand was sewn,
then blown
from that high cloudy precipice
to precipitate.
The first one fell
and the million followers, too
small white crystal lemmings
so close, their bodies on the autumn lawn-
not a peak was left,
just white and on
they lay so close together
as if each tiny hand to another’s hand was sewn.