On bridges I wait for the crash;
below, for the crumble.

With slick-ice roads in the
dead of winter
by the open canal,
in my mind I watch my car slide
off the road, into water.

Inconsequential
even if I knew how to swim.
She taught me– or tried to, at least.
She told me to find
my “inner mermaid”–
like a man.

And to fill my lungs like balloons
with meaningless, throwaway air–
which I did, to a fault.

 

(originally published in The Literary Commune – Issue #4, April 2015)