Michelle Blank

That day I fell off the Earth.
The phone rang, the voice spoke, the gyre continued to turn and gravity released me, just me.
Landing in the worm’s abode where the hot, clear liquid stung my eyes, and the darkened glass blocked my vision.
No, not the glass, not my eyes.
Not by Cornwall but by mine own hand clawed out so that I could not see the de-struction.
De-struction of a life, of more than a life; de-struction born of death.
In the scene the people come and go speaking of death, of De-struction; and I drown.
the bottle is forced to wretch, and its contents are vomited onto the shore.
Though gravity cannot hold the pain, and death does not stop the de-struction, I Am stronger than gravity, more powerful than death.
In I Am, centered at last.