Compelled by the hum of water, I keep scaling bridges.
Obsessed, I become expert in the art of my own un-
Making. In October, the river comes to claim me.
Everyone flinches. I fail to drown. Still, it calls my name,
Taunts. Friends sputter soft hellos and witless chatter,
Offer Hallmark advice. Discomfort scurries every room.
They whisper about me in my presence. A girl made for sinking
Hears the current in everyone’s voice. I consider each possible
End. Blades miss. Bullets stain. Or disfigure. Pills know the
Body’s compulsion to reject. But the river? It knows
Only speed and swallow. A girl made of stones doesn’t
Try to swim. April, another bridge turns me away. And again
They name it triumph. Applaud the ghost surviving herself.
On the ward, I am the saddest song. Empty, full of prescriptions.
Made it through, they sigh. Survived. Still the river sings, come.