~ Delta Poetry Review ~

Plagiarizing My Suicide
                 —for Virginia Woolf

Storm clouds brewing
So near the event horizon
I can see a crushed snail shell
Incandescent like a flattened
Yellow brick road.
The starting point
Towards the banks of the
River Ouse.

The honking of the geese
Distracts strands of raven hair
Circumnavigating the breeze

The preparations went well
With long, black coat
Made in England
Of fishermen’s wool
With big, workman’s pockets
Hovering hip high
Sensually riding the swell
Of my body.

I imagined the other woman
Filling the pockets
With smooth grey and black
River stones
Whose round softness
Reflected her unblemished skin
Against the radiant gown
Drawn from deep in her closet

The honking of the geese
Distracts strands of raven hair
Circumnavigating the breeze.

Here, along the banks of the River Rock
Concrete jagged tossed between strewn logs
Crushed pieces of modernity
Ripped to shreds
By some inhuman force.
Look as I might
It was difficult to find
A rock that was caressed by the waves.

Sighing with the weight of femininity
Of motherhood and marriage
I begin to gather the concrete
Placing rough hardness in the pockets
Sharp edges biting into my thigh
The solid weight of physical reality
As the stones clambered and collided
Deep in the cavern of wool.

The honking of the geese
Distracts strands of raven hair
Circumnavigating the breeze.

Assuredly stepping off the bank

My moist lips part
As the rocks coax me forward
My suicide plagiarized
The water saturates wool and mortar
Embraces my small dark form
With a gentle pull and tug
Sliding softly into the water

And then my cell phone rings . . .

The honking of the geese
Distracts strands of raven hair
Circumnavigating the breeze.