Failure
A feeling arises, a drop in the stomach
Is it a wall of resistance or a warning?
What if it is an angel making short-bread
or electrons jumping orbits?
What if it is a rise in temperature
or the process of digestion?
What if the feeling is due to cells dividing
or of eggs released from an ovary?
What about stories flitting by for notice?
Memories of days past or longings for the future?
What if when two stars collide this is how it feels?
Or when a jet breaks the sound barrier?
Maybe it is a dust mote traveling through my body
at the speed of light.
Maybe it’s Einstein’s thoughts mixing with Mozart’s
or colliding with Hitler’s.
What if it’s a broadcast from another planet
the effect of superglue on the ozone?
What if it’s the molecules from your next-door neighbor’s dinner?
What if it’s the bonds between hydrogen and oxygen loosening?
What if it’s the vibrations left over from the Beatles’ collaboration?
What if it’s the effect of 20,000 simultaneous orgasms?
What if it’s a cloud that melted?
A bird’s wings fluttering across the world?
What if it’s the concomitant falling into love by millions?
Or out of it? What if it’s betrayal or reward?
It could be anything. Yet my mind declares with unabashed certainty:
This is the feeling of failure.