Remember the 80s? The waterfall behind
the trailer. I’d sneak right up to the edge.
At no age is it easy to judge proximity to
harm. What about the 90s? The grandfather
clock I climbed tipped and pinned me under.
Wet washcloth for my head, broken glass
for my body. A towering thing uprooted.
A small, clumsy thing unchanged. Others
warn against inanimate dangers. You
fashion knives from Damascus steel. Oil
to keep from rusting, sharpen it constantly,
you said. I left it inside its protective case.
Heather Cox edits the online literary magazine Ghost Ocean and the handmade chapbook press Tree Light Books. Heather's work appears or is forthcoming in Barrelhouse, Indiana Review, Threadcount, Nightblock, Pinwheel, and elsewhere. Heather is the recipient of a Luminarts Fellowship and the author of two forthcoming chapbooks, Mole People (BatCat, 2016) and Magnificent Desolation (Finishing Line, 2016). Heather lives in Colorado with her wife and their two dogs and can be found online at looklookhere.tumblr.com.