The Poetry of
Jack Scott

The Cliffwalker

They told me.
I didn’t listen,
so confident was I
walking the precipice edges.
I learned once-
which was enough-
that the hems of all heights
are not the same.
I remember the sound,
some of it mine,
then the falling,
but not the landing,
only the pain
which did not last long
and the darkness,
which did.


709 ®Copyright 2014 Jack Scott. All rights reserved.