Tall buildings no longer call to me
no siren song of sharp knives
or pills swallowed with scotch
no dreams of knotting nooses
looping rope around a rafter
kicking a chair away
I walk straight past the guns
in my stepfather’s house
lined up behind a glass door
like soldiers waiting for war
How to live in this unexpected
world, how fill time without
writing and rewriting final notes
imagining tears at my memorial
chain chewing Wrigley’s gum
while I think of yet another way
like swallowing bleach
savoring the last burning breath
posters of Cobain line my walls
books by Plath and Sexton
fill sagging shelves
I don’t know the rules anymore
I open the curtains
forsythia flames yellow
I cover my eyes blinded
by the pain of possibility
but I can still feel
the warmth of the sun
