by James K. Zimmerman
subway ceiling tightrope
high enough
to fall
she wishes she could
fly into blinding light, fall
into blackness, balance
life
death, be
a rock in the arms
of nothingness, raven
in the face of god
no bed
to sleep on no sleep
to carry her away or
down to broken arms
legs
head
heart
she waits for a train
to fall on electricity
to save her
float her into
blackness, into
blinding light
he crawls out to her on
tightrope, soft voice, heart
loud as the 5:10 train
hands reach her
touch her holding back
the fall
the sob into
no one cares
people watch
wait for the train
wait for her to fall
him to fail
some walk on
some with videos
to post on Facebook
Instagram
YouTube, selfies
waiting for the train to come
he whispers
to her eyes
her arms
her heart
come down
come back
she hears
tears fall, he
holds her, brings
her down, carries her
back
into life
EMT
ambulance, glare
of cable news news
about the girder
the girl
the tightrope
the hero
no interview, he says, no hero
gives her his number, text me
picks up his backpack
rides the D Train home
Frequently a Pushcart Prize nominee, James K. Zimmerman‘s work appears in Atlanta Review, Chautauqua, Chicago Quarterly Review, Folio, Lumina, Nimrod, Pleiades, Rattle, and numerous other journals and anthologies. He is author of four books of poetry, most recently “The Further Adventures of Zen Patriarch Dōgen” and “Unbroken Circle, Unending Thread.” He values his neurodivergence as an essential wellspring of his creative imagination.
Emerge Literary Journal 