11-05-2025, 05:46 AM
52 Inches
I remember when I grew
tall enough to die.
The metal cage creaking
as I stepped up into it,
lap belt stopping above my knees
securing only air
more suggestion than restraint,
the door that kept rattling
even shut. Each jolt
tugging the connected lap belt.
I gripped harder,
then the grind of the motor
launching toward the sky.
The girl’s weight pinning me
to the side of the cage.
Coins rained down.
My eyes fixed on the door
through each spin.
The bar pulled from my grip.
Then air.
I staggered, I’d forgotten
how to walk.
I crouched beneath
the height bar again.
I remember when I grew
tall enough to die.
The metal cage creaking
as I stepped up into it,
lap belt stopping above my knees
securing only air
more suggestion than restraint,
the door that kept rattling
even shut. Each jolt
tugging the connected lap belt.
I gripped harder,
then the grind of the motor
launching toward the sky.
The girl’s weight pinning me
to the side of the cage.
Coins rained down.
My eyes fixed on the door
through each spin.
The bar pulled from my grip.
Then air.
I staggered, I’d forgotten
how to walk.
I crouched beneath
the height bar again.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson