January 27, 2020 | Poetry
Here come the ones who chose / the second option...
Recently, I told my mother that I used to climb out of the bathroom window in the upstairs and crawl out onto the chimney ledge, where one slip of the ankle, knee, wrist, and I would have fallen three stories onto cement. Perhaps it began as another peace offering—I was trying to amuse her.
You didn't ask for it then. You're not asking for it now.
In that moment through blinding lights and pelting rain, I saw the police telling my parents what I’d done.
This was months ago. April, maybe May. The weather was foggy. So was my brain. I saw you again in... more