After jumping off the roof of your old high school

After Jumping Off the Roof of Your Old High School

The doc sends you home
with some glorious drug
that rumbles your stomach,
produces a swift, sweeping glow,
a continual buzz that makes you think
you suddenly know something.

Big.
Your arm is big.
Hand too.

You stretch back the white lines of bandages
and a bump juts out of the side
like a misplaced second elbow.
A bruise like purple magic marker
covers the underside of your forearm
passing the bicep, almost up the shoulder.

Don't leave home.
It'll be worse than the Super Bowl and election put together.
They'll all ask the same questions.
Already, your cousin has called, voice casual,
making sure you were just drunk, right?
This isn't some suicide thing?
Already your aunt has sent flowers,
lilacs and daffodils humming on the kitchen table.

 

excellent line...

if you are doing this at 16, I wonder what you will be doing at 46 (I'm old~).

Stick with it, even if you let it go for parts of time, come back to it... you are a poet Blkrubbersoul...