Untitled no. 20

I am buzzing, I’ve become static.

Maybe I wished to see you again.

Those who doubt you, encourage you.

I’ve put the transmission into drive and I thought I might drive into the lake,

That might show my worth.

I’m not sure if gold floats,

but Dodge frames sink, that I know.

I told myself, the other day, that I’m not obsessed with death anymore,

That was a lie,

I don’t want to drown in death, I want to swim in it.

This lake seems smaller than before,

Laying belly up in papa’s red cedar made the whole world seem unending.

But this chapter is finished.

My vengeful hands hope you will read my name in book shop aisles, or on the front pages, before I die in some fiery plane crash, something to remember.

But my meekness?

She is hoping that I die peacefully, quietly,

With no one to harm with grief.

Peacefully, while my tulips come back every spring, defying even the most dutiful housewives.

Peacefully, the eggs and milk never souring in the fridge, wine never becoming vinegar on the counter.

Peacefully, for time to stop with my death.

I’ve not swam in this lake before, fear of rusted cans and lonely beer bottles,

Cracked by weight, not tide.

This night I’ve not the warmth for swimming, but I’ve the fire for cracking through this ice.

Toppling fish huts, reminiscent of grandfather.

Infamy is a preferable outcome to wallowing.

Welcome me, zebra mussels and algae,

Welcome me home,

where these paystubs and this emptiness might be filled with water stinking of clams.

Pull me up, green and bloated,

Fish are held to lower standards.