Jennifer Lynn Krohn
Skip class. Hide under
the arroyo’s bridge.
Smoke cigarettes
while contemplating
the stroller swept there
in the last thunder-
storm. Don’t go home
when school ends.
Don’t go home
when the setting sun
and the air pregnant
with smoke from
a wildfire a hundred
miles away turn
the city a burnished
gold. Stay until bats
dart around the edges
of lampposts picking
off disoriented
insects. Look at the sky
cleaned of stars.
This isn’t like a devil
at a crossroad. Wait
and wait and wait. Wait
through the storm
of moth wings.
When the bridge troll
comes, refuse to move.
Fold your arms,
shake your head
at every threat.
It’s your spot. He must
find another one.
Keep waiting. Wait
through the body-
less whispers. Wait
through the parade
of cloaked figures,
carrying candles
that burn with black flames.
Wait until the woman
with a hole for a face
appears. Listen to what she
whispers in your ear.
Now you know.
Climb up the slanted
concrete walls.
Cross the bridge,
remember the picture
of Ophelia from literature
class. Drowning yourself
is not an option
in the desert. When you want
to disappear like the stars,
there is no current to sweep
over you. Leap off
a bridge and break a leg,
a shoulder, but not
your neck. Why do you
think these things?
You don’t want to die.
But death is easier
to imagine than certain
things and people
stopping–don’t think
about that. Your one
talent is not thinking
about that. Look at
the solid yellow line
crossed by skid marks
leading to a grey
furred smudge
at the brink
of the bridge.
Realize, bridges are
an act of violence.
A way to erase
boundaries. No
river. No stream. No
canyon could keep
him out. You wanted
to be an island.
A castle with a moat.
But there’s not
enough water.
There’s no such
thing as a spell
for protection.
There are only
curses. Go home.
***
Jennifer Lynn Krohn was born and raised in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she currently lives with her husband. She earned her MFA from the University of New Mexico, and she currently teaches English at Central New Mexico Community College. She has published work in Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Necessary Fiction, Storm Cellar, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and Gingerbread House Literary Magazine among others.