The earth’s a child and doesn’t think
     to draw the people in so fast
that they’re transformed to pools of blood and cartilage
          at the very last.
 
     For instance when they climb the railing
     held up four hundred metres high
above the parks, the buildings and the roads,
          and step into the sky
 
     the earth wants them so much it says,
     ‘Now come to me.’ It’s had enough
of barriers keeping them apart.
          Who could resist such love?
 
     And so they come down in their hundreds,
     these ones who wanted quickly out,
so tired of leaving things to fortune – some
          in silence, some with a shout –

     as streetlamps twist their necks to look
     up at the heights and finish gazing
down on a human heap against the earth,
          whose love still proves amazing.