“You question my invincibility now?”

The door is ajar. Perhaps more.

After all this time.

Now she questions me.

“You made me believe. Now you doubt me?”

I slide the door closed.

The wind feels fresh.

Like ants. They are like ants.

The sobbing is a distraction.

I can’t deny it.

Doubt has crept in now.

What has changed?

My faith was strong.

And now?

“Go on then. Do it if you’re going to, you stupid bastard!”

More of a shriek than a shout.

Muffled through glass.

Still a shriek though.

This should be easy.

My feet look strange on the rail.

I was right.

I am right.

Not about the ants.

They are definitely not ants.

That becomes quite clear.

Briefly.

Published in Ditch,  http://www.ditchpoetry.com/timkerton.htm