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Falling off the Ladder

J. L. Baudry
The room pitches and spins. My arms splay out, and I drop into nothing. It takes a long time. Like the journey of light from stars that, by the time we put an eye to the telescope, have pinwheeled into the darkness. I reach for something, anything to hold on to. My recollections of past homes seem solid until I try to put any weight on them. Monoprint, February 2017