She stands at the edge—
slick with sweat thick as saliva—
The abyss below her licking its lips,
The roar of traffic not unlike some great
Stomach growling with a dark hunger.
It’s a far way to jump, but it is natural,
Like a drop of wine sliding down a man’s gullet.
Her feet rest on the bridge’s edge,
Like a crumb about to fall through teeth.
Her heart grumbles like her stomach
does without breakfast. Bile rises in her throat,
like she will vomit the gourmet meal of
cheese and crackers from yesterday.
When she leaps off the edge,
It tastes like ice cream, sweet and cool,
And when she drops into the stomach acid
Of the river’s body, everything stops.
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