Gravity tugs
relentlessly
at my chin and
elbows, knees
and my breasts
Unerringly pulls at
apples and walnuts,
at meteors, missles
and parachutists
At tree leaves
and dead limbs,
rocket ships
and past sins
In voice, whims,
circumstances
all insisting,
life at seventy
turns gravelly,
gutteral, gravid,
a gravamen
first published in Lullwater Review
©2014 Bonnie Manion