For my mum who has been unlucky enough to break her arm playing catch but who is nonetheless wonderful.
I seem to have a problem
Not the kind where
You go and see a nurse
A therapist
Or ring a hearse
Not a problem with sanity
Or even mild depravity
I just seem to have
A fairly insignificant
But nonetheless worrying
Problem with gravity.
Just the other day
I was picking plums
At the top of a ladder
Made entirely of rungs
Held together by strange forces
Tensile bonds
And nails and things
When there was a slight fluctuation
In the position of
My centre of gravity
And with startling alacrity
I met the ground with a force
Roughly equal to, say,
Oh, seven hundred newtons
Or thereabouts.
And at that point I
Politely wondered
Whether many other people
Had this fairly insignificant
But nonetheless worrying
Problem with gravity.
Or perhaps it’s just me.
