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 sinkingHears the current in everyone’s voice. I consider each possibleEnd. Blades miss. Bullets stain. Or disfigure. Pills know theBody’s compulsion to reject. But the river? It knowsOnly speed and swallow. A girl made of stones doesn’tTry to swim. April, another bridge turns me away. And againThey 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.