Poem: Then It Fell

Then It Fell

and the blooming:
it fell and the blooming,
and the hot blooming,
the hot blood,
the heat, the blood,
swelled, blooming,
fallen and bloomed,
hot and too much,
and rising.  No good
to hold it, to keep it,
to be a wall.
It fell, already
it has fallen down,
has gotten loose.
It is too late
to hold on,
it is gone already.
The blood feels it,
the blood moves,
fast moving,
but to where?
Where does it go,
where does it need to go,
all the blood?
Fast and hot, feel that?
It is too much.
It already is done.
It has to be.
What went first
is enough
to know the end.
It already fell.

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