The Edge

was so close to the tips of my shoes.
My favorite ones—blue, with rounded toes. It would be a pity,
I wouldn’t be able to wear those shoes anymore.

But I can’t deal with it.
I can’t. Arguments and petty wars.
No money. A house with no electricity.
No food—though goodness knows we can survive
on very little.
No, I said to myself, it is better this way.

But a soft voice from behind me—my wife’s figure
cast a rotund shadow as she placed a white hand on my arm.
Come down, dear. We can work this out.
I hated her then—that plastic beauty with perfectly red lips
and dark brown hair. She had no heart, I was sure, no brain.
So shallow. But it was her security being threatened and she
had to sound like she cared, at least.
I tried to pull away but she held on tightly.
Darling please, she said, don’t do this.
I pulled harder. I felt something give in my arm.
Now look what you did. Look.
She held my arm in her cold hands. Her perfectly lashed eyes
stared reproachfully at me as I looked over the drop again.

“Mom, look, Mom!” A shrill voice.
“Look! Mr. Potato Head
can balance on the play pen!”

One of my blue shoes fell off as he caught me. He pulled
off my hat and arms and stuffed them inside of my back. His
little fingers twisted and pulled
and I heard my wife
sob as the world faded away.