|
| |
Selfie Suicide - First Draft
She tries to think how she might make it real.
She feels like a windblown flame
just a meaningless username.
This morning she excavated the garage.
Rope (is it strong enough to hold?)
She thinks of e e cummings
balloonman far and wee
feels herself to be
an anchorless balloon, floating free...
Voices and faces are fainter, receding now...
And it will recede, a tide going out
the flame of her wick blowing out
and a final blessed silence
soft as black velvet.
Copyright ©
Charlotte Puddifoot
|
|