MEGAZINE: ISSUE TWO (10.14.17)

Page 91

'Wrong River' Written by Elizabeth O'Connell-Thompson

We’re on the bridge again and I’m telling you that there’s no way I’ll take another step. You don’t call me a fool or threaten to call my mama— at least, I don’t think you do. I don’t remember, and only know what you tell me, stroking my head the next day while I try to remember the difference between acetaminophen and ibuprofen, between our black tights coiled on the floor like snakes, tempting me to go bare-legged and rosy through the day. I am choosing not to find out more about what storms left my mouth, knowing that my eventual drowning is only fate.

Golden shovel with line from Justin Townes Earle’s “Harlem River Blues.”


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