From the top of a glass tower
A man falls
Silent
Horizontal
Stiff as a statue
Arms pinned to his sides.
His face doesn’t flinch.
His eyes don’t blink
In spite of the wind that whips back his blonde hair
And turns his coat into a cape.
As he falls
The cape erupts in flames
engulfs his form,
A lit match falling through the cold, black night.
When the ground rises up,
He dips down his head,
Eager for oblivion,
But instead of crushing him,
the sidewalk cracks open,
yawns wide
to reveal a cavern of fire,
boiling like the surface of the sun.
Into the fire, he falls and disappears
And with a groan,
The crack slams shut,
Leaving no trace behind
except for the sickening smell
Of his burning flesh and hair.
