Gravity Poem by Martin Moore

GRAVITY
Galvanised into action, the roof and the battle
The players, plastic pawns in my chess game
And I a proselyte
In the basic criteria for rooftop combat.
Absorbed in the affray, teenage tactician
Abruptly, I took flight
Testing Newton's theory I appeared
To hover motionless in the air
Landing on my spine
Across the steely crossbar of a blameless bike
A neutral in the lofty games
Oblivious to the whine.
The black, bruising whack, the shock
Unabashed, blemished trophy,
Blood upon the umber saddle.
Crestfallen, countenance confused
Knight-like, on bended, battered knee
My acute awareness addled
Anointed by the water from the sacred font
Near drowned in Mothers benevolence
Now conscious of the pain
I deserted the battlefield above
A veteran, no parachute prerequisite
On terra firma the next campaign.