After the Fall

The sound was everything I’d read it was,
and more: soft and precise,
a single apple dropped on sodden ground.
Now time is measured from that sound.

Not in my ears, but roiling through my marrow
swept a sudden sorrow.
Then the epiphany: sick rushing knowledge
that I had done irreparable damage.

Never again the luxury of ease
or happy thoughtlessness.
So innocent and careless was that life
before! Now the world’s unsafe,

the smallest gesture feels as if it matters,
this side of the fracture,
and I consider long where to place my feet—
always aware that it’s too late.

• About
• Also by this author

Jane Greer

Jane Greer edited Plains Poetry Journal (1981-1993), an advance guard of the New Formalism movement. Her poetry collections include Love like a Conflagration (2020) and The World as We Know It Is Falling Away (2022), both from Lambing Press. Greer gave a weeklong series of readings in Pittsburgh, Steubenville, and St. Paul last fall. She lives in North Dakota.

Also by Jane Greer (see all)

• “A poet, dangerous and steep”:reintroducing Josephine Jacobsen - February 19, 2023
• “The beloved spectator who is myself”: Mary Jo Salter, Socially Distanced - September 21, 2022
• “What Is There I Will Not Let Go?”: Two New Books by Rachel Hadas - May 22, 2022

Author: Jane Greer

Jane Greer edited Plains Poetry Journal (1981-1993), an advance guard of the New Formalism movement. Her poetry collections include Love like a Conflagration (2020) and The World as We Know It Is Falling Away (2022), both from Lambing Press. Greer gave a weeklong series of readings in Pittsburgh, Steubenville, and St. Paul last fall. She lives in North Dakota. View all posts by Jane Greer