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
