Strapped to her back, he let his yellow hair shoot up,
a neon coxcomb forced by rushing air. They fell.
She gasped at the cold wind screeching in her ears,

and the colors: squares of farmland in walnut and olive,
the sun a sparkling lemon against coconut clouds.
Swirling in from behind them, the video man reached

for her hand, spun them in circles, then floated away.
Instructor pushed the wrist altimeter in front of her face:
five seconds to pull the cord. Pineapple-mint parachute

kicked out of his pack, wrenching their harness clips
with a hard yank, emergency brake at six thousand feet.
Then they were dancing on autumn treetops, halfway

between terminal velocity and earth. She opened
her arms to birds. Four minutes distended like taffy,
filmy and slow, all the way down till she bent her knees

to land: pink shoes sliding in green grass, sudden dizzy
stillness. Sky rolled its body out over the drop zone.
Bright nylon drifted to ground in dozy rainbows.

November 2015