Laboratory Model
They didn’t understand: I never wanted
to kill myself, just to hang in the air
a little while, my body uncommitted
to any particular surface, loose
as a starfish someone’s scooped from the sea
floor and let drift back to the bottom. Only
then my head—as if the flushed and lovely
assistant in a magic trick—disappeared,
and with it my plan for getting down. But
the story had a happy ending none-
theless: they cleaned me up and screwed a silver
eye into my skull. Now I am free
to spend my hours gently swinging in and out
of the slatted light. Look at me: I can’t stop smiling.
