Photograph of a Suicide in the Morning Paper

An earlier version of this poem appeared in Bachy #6.

Like jumping
for the first time

off the high dive at the pool
when she was six,

she finally just closed her eyes
and hopped,

sitting down in the air
knees bent

one hand trailing loose
above her head

the other hand
pinching her nose.

I later recalled
with a startled grimace

how cruel it seemed
that her puffed cheeks

held on so fiercely
to the last breath.