10-Line Tuesday

December 1, 2015

flirting with disaster

She watches from the sidelines, the drop at his back an abyss so close,
an animal instinct grips her and she wants to leap into the cage and pull him
to safety. She doesn't, of course - this isn't the contract she entered when he arrived,
open-fisted and full-throated, into the hard world. No, when he came the only thing to do
was hold him in his fear and astonishment, make foreign, unbidden sounds in the hopes
of cushioning the blow. Which is exactly what she does now, only the sounds
are a strange mix of prayer and pride as he settles into a rhythm of rising and falling
and flirting with disaster at every turn. She stands there, not saving him, as the sun carves
such beautiful shadows from his body she can't help but wriggle out of the steely bars
of her own dread and climb, with her eyes, on his shoulders.