Mortality weighs on my shoulders today,
the anniversary of Ellen’s death, this day too

enshrouded in cool rain.  Then there’s
Sara’s suicide marinating in my cells.

If she can do it, I can do it, demise
just one breath away.

Though I know in my bones,
this is not my path, addicted

as I am to lists and accomplishments.
I can look over the edge of a building

without needing to jump.
I tell myself just do the next thing,

simple and grounded as they are,
change the sheets, do my nails.