Falling by Maggie Johnston
The question is always the same,
no matter how extreme or
casual; as long as there is
some sort of height (spiral staircase,
Juliet's balcony, a human pyramid),
you ask yourself,
What would happen if I fell?
We are inclined to think morbidly.
We love to imagine out funeral procession
and our frist-grade teacher's response
when flipping through the obituaries: "She was
such a good girl."
And for three secondes you want to feel
the release, the intimacy with God
that psalms and incense
can't give you,
and you tell yourself that if you did it-
and now you are really tempted-
you would fall backwards
so you could look up.
no matter how extreme or
casual; as long as there is
some sort of height (spiral staircase,
Juliet's balcony, a human pyramid),
you ask yourself,
What would happen if I fell?
We are inclined to think morbidly.
We love to imagine out funeral procession
and our frist-grade teacher's response
when flipping through the obituaries: "She was
such a good girl."
And for three secondes you want to feel
the release, the intimacy with God
that psalms and incense
can't give you,
and you tell yourself that if you did it-
and now you are really tempted-
you would fall backwards
so you could look up.