recounting my suicide for the soul commitee

September 26, 2011 § 2 Comments

naked
I stood on the scale 
and looked down past my
belly and pecker as the pointer
found center on
one hundred and twenty eight 

I thought of how the scene would
look from the vantage point
of the vestibule, opted for
clothing, got dressed and reweighed
myself
one hundred thirty

I calculated my weight
against the drop
and envisioned cliched images
of relatives waiting on
golden streets in
softly hued landscapes

I measured out the 
proper length of line

thirteen knots would have been
symbolic of some satanic connection
to guilt, so I went with fourteen,
secured the line to the railing,
( close to an upright for
  added strength )
and adjusted the business end 
for just the right fit

just above Adams apple,
along chinline, 
behind ears,
cinched up with
the first twist nicely tucked 
under the knob on
the back of my skull

I coiled the rope
near my left foot
and stood with my hands
in my pockets
I thought how good I looked
in the jeans and shirt
I had chosen for the trip
aimed for the peacock
motif mosaic’d in the floor below
and took that
so often referenced
first step 

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