Reach/Throw/Wade/Row

by Phoebe Stuckes

She is the class of crazy that inspires adoration.
She stacks vices like bracelets, works herself into hysterics,

Don’t give her matches she will pinch them till her fingers scorch.

I know she is gorgeous like a thunderstorm, but stop trying to hold her hand.
Her heart is too heavy for you to lift.

Her pain is impossible, you can keep wrapping your arms around her but she’ll never stay upright.

Her stares are hospital corridors, passageways hiding chaos and anguish.

‘No, you can’t have a cigarette.’

She lost the ring that I gave her; on ardent impulse I wanted to throw her a lifebelt.
A reminder that she and I are washed up on the same shore.

Being with her is like seeing Alice drink the vial, watching herself become vast and destructive.

I cannot keep her safe; I cannot bear to watch her fold.