The Scary Thing.
   Ft in Those Who Jump.

The scary thing about somebody

jumping from the top of a tall building

is not the fall or the jump itself

or the rush of air that chokes

into being that person’s last breath.

It is not even the man, on his way to work,
who finds seven body parts

spread across six paving stones.

It is not the sirens that are blue

with nothing to rush to,

nor the cold of the zipper
on a black and silver body bag,

or the sound of the bristles

pushed forth and back,
forth and back until nobody
would know of the life that saw it’s last there.

The scary thing about somebody

jumping from the top of a tall building

is the dark they saw

when they stood on the ledge

and looked for the stars,

that maybe they took the stairs

two at a time, or the pile of rubbish

swirling in circles too small

to catch the headlines of that days news report.

It is the town that was deserted,

and that nobody saw them

walk through the streets
or stand at the foot of the building
and look up.


It is the look on their face
as they chose which coat to wear
and the way they closed
their blue front door knowing
they had no need to take a key.