Thursday, January 31, 2013

the way it happens

this man on the bridge
falling or jumping
or holding a rock with both hands

dropping it
and the windshield of the car below
parting like violent water

the woman's face split in two
and your sister on the phone
saying she's pregnant

blood pooling on the floor where
you've left the idea of a mother
murdering her son with a butcher knife

the sky where it
pours itself over the landscape

the rock as it falls and the woman
as she turns to her husband and smiles

the pair of hands attached to a
person that no one knows

these fifteen crosses planted in
the ground in colorado
and the fact that nothing grows

your sister on the phone
saying she lost the baby

saying the blood
won't come off her hands
and the fact that nothing falls
out of the sky

the way she describes
the fetus to you

the idea that
none of these wars can ever
really be won

the man on the bridge jumping
and then falling
and then breaking through the ice

his apartment
and all of the places
a note was never left

all of the people it was
never addressed to

the body not found until spring

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