What do you think?
Rate this book


96 pages, Paperback
Published September 3, 2019
balcony
the radio claims the secret is
simple—it's to always want
to know what comes next
& to let that want pull you
back from the ledge, again
& again. i have a friend who,
the years he was drinking,
would, every night, stack all
the furniture in his living room
in front of his sliding glass door,
which led out to his fifth-floor
balcony . . . . he knew that once
he'd had his first drink, not right
away but eventually—soon—he'd
blackout & he worried he'd try
to fly again. couch. table. chair.
bookcase. for years he dragged
his furniture, every night as the sun
went away & in the morning he
put it all back in place, never con-
sidering, not once, that maybe
he should stop. the one promise i
can make is that i'm staying
even though what knocks on our
door at night has at its heart only
my getting lost, even though
some part of it wants me dead,
which is why i feed it with a stick.
you've already met it, but it didn't
show you all its teeth. it knew
it had to lull you in, it knew you were
skittery. it let you feed it by hand, it
let you put a finger in its mouth,
into its good, good mouth. it didn't
bite down, not hard, not then,
not yet.