She drove a corkscrew through
the aluminum side of the swimming pool
and felt the water rush right past her legs
as it tore apart the yard.
She says she hasn’t seen a name
like that since one time
long ago written weird
on the back of a playing card.
She wanted to be a pilot
so badly, but when she finally
got into a flight school
the sky fell down around her
like a net, and then she
woke up on the floor
of the bathroom after
making three cuts in row
across her open left eye.
It’s always such a good idea
at the time, like a way out
of a nightmare that doesn’t really
take you anywhere but deeper.
She takes her sneakers off
to stand within the water
that has risen to her ankles,
and knows that one day
they will ask if it was worth it.
She never makes her mind up
on that issue, and the voices
of the people that she flooded
start to creep in from behind her,
and inside her there is nothing
making noise.
When they walk her out
in handcuffs they pass
a bird’s nest that is floating
down the curbside
and just inside there’s
a newborn searching
madly for its mother
who is somewhere
looking down
but cannot see.
Teleporting Typewriter 