all the way down

how it begins is this:

i take a length of braided rope,

snap it for strength,

and tie a noose into it;

then, i hold it up,

making sure it’s the size of my head

 

i drape it over the back of the sofa

and stand far back:

i hold a quarter up to my eye

and slide it into the hollow

and think, yes,

these are the same little circles

 

i take my rope outside

to join me in the tallest tree

at the end of my block,

where i climb to the highest branch

scoot out to the edge

and take my chances.

 

there is nothing for me here.

 

i want the world to die with me.

 

i want to cosmically disrupt our orbit

and smash my world to pieces,

a mass extinction event,

cretaceous–paleogene,

shattering through me,

the new chicxulub crater

 

i lasso the rope,

i scoop the knot,

and i toss the braid to the sky,

where it flies for miles and miles

until it slides around the moon

and i give her a sharp tug

 

i wonder if this is how the yucatán felt

on impact

and in my last moment, i think,

i am so glad she hurdled at me,

the destroyer,

in a blaze of moonlight, 2:47am

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