I sit on the white leather couch
faing the bay window in my father’s living room.
I stare
taking in the clarity of my reflection
the reflection of my face
I move the long table aside with the motion of my eyes
setting a clear pathway for me to run
My body rises off white leather
effortlessly
the muscles in my legs barely twitching
the toes of my shoes avoiding the catch of the carpet
arms moving swiftly up and down, like they are pulled
stale air going into my mouth and out my nose
in sync with the ticking of my heart
my face getting closer to me, my eyes are two brown spots
in the clear clean glass
and when I splash through
shards will bed into flesh that rips open
casting red onto the ground below
my eyesight removed with the pieces that shred it away
I will understand the body like I never have before
breathing in the sting, like lemon juice in an empty stomah
breaking off front teeth on hard rock, the crack of my bones
hitting the ground, crushing the life they held together
my legs tangled beneath me in an unnatural fashion
my arms severed from the impact
my mouth open the entire time.
This piece originally appeared in Issue 3 of Left Jab Poetry Magazine, published in May 1997.