Page 99 - TheBridge_Vol16

because she wasn’t. She had her darkness on the moon from Earth, rust didn’t dull
like we all do, but I wish she could have
seen what we saw: someone who, though
her life was plagued by circumstances that
were out of her control and choices she
made that were not in her favor, was one of
the most loving, loyal, caring people whose
worldview trampled even the most vocal,
narrow-minded skeptics. She had so much
more to offer especially so much more to
offer herself.
“I tricked myself into believing she would
overcome her demons. But I am reminded
by her death that she was only human, and
as vulnerable as any of us to succumbing.
I will take away the best parts of Esther as
we return her body to the earth: her love,
her loyalty, her fervor, and most of all, her
complete disregard of what anyone thought
of her. That was always my favorite part of
her. She was shamelessly her, and she did
not give a fuck what anyone else thought of
her. I hope we can all take away with us a part
of Esther that emboldens and empowers us,
and each in our own way allow her legacy to
continue through our own remaining years.”
Lily hesitated as she started to leave
the podium, stepping back towards the
microphone. “And while I’m brave enough in
my own honesty to say it,” she said, locking
eyes with Esther’s mother, “Roberta, I
will never forgive you for letting her drug
dealer back in the house.”
―
outside my bedroom window the moon
cracked a Cheshire cat smile, the playlist
switched to “Rape Me” by the time the
rubber noose knot constricted my veins,
old brown pocks in the crease of my elbow
they look like what impact craters look like
the pipes yet they’re like turquoise rivers
running up my forearm, I didn’t even
remember retrieving the syringe from the
bedside table top but it was in my hand full
one-quarter with liquid gold, I was trying
not to but the vodka wasn’t enough, I just
wanted to run back away to New York, my
demons are there too but not as much,
especially not since Dad died last year;
what I really wish is that I could go back
to Sydney, the water is turquoise there too
and the sun sets over Botany Bay washing
out the sky with orange and purple, I should
have never come back from there but here
I am the needle’s inserted at forty degrees,
gentle enough not to impale the other side
of the vein, crimson tendrils shoot into
the barrel as I pulled the plunger back and
slowly push down the golden brown until
the plunger meets the adapter.
he tampered with my dose, this was
different than that last time on the beach,
the first rush was sweet, but I felt a
thickening hollow can’t tell if the bedside
analog was busted or time stopped,
wouldn’t that be something, like a universal
remote to pause the passage of time to
better cope with its unobservable infinity
and the briefly allotted slot in which life was
by chance allowed to consciousness—
Vol. XVI | 87