The Suicide Imp

You’re a kid in sandals sitting in a car
Whooshing high speed past heath
‘Say BOO! ‘ says the suicide imp
‘And you’ll all go spinning’

But you sit on your hands
You clamp your tongue in your teeth

You’re swinging alone in the park
The height of the stained glass pane
‘Slip off’ says the suicide imp
You tighten your hold on the chain

You’re cycling a hair-pin bend
Freckles speckling your face
‘Edge to the left, ’ he says
‘Woo empty space’

It’s the sunniest day in summer
You’re walking over a bridge
A hundred trees below are gently sighing
‘Jump, ’ says the suicide imp
‘And go out flying.’

The suicide imp is dark, he lives in a crack
The cards fall down for the joker in the pack

poem by Sheena Blackhall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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