Mimi

She jumped out--no, no, was sucked--
she was sucked out into the daylight over
Park Avenue because (my mother says
because) everyone who should have
loved her called her a clown. She was
a clown flying through space then on
her way down. For a moment anyway.
For a moment she must have thought,
"Ha, ha, ha, lovers! Clown I may be, but
how many clowns have you known to fly?"
The sucking itself could not have lasted
long. If there was a sound, no one
would have heard it. And then she was
gone. You cannot run from your air
and water and you cannot run from
your windows when they call. They
might call. You would come to them too,
just like that, would take the fall for them
if you thought too long about clowns
when you heard your name, if you
started believing what they told you about
clowns, and windows, and old age,
and motherhood. And the certainty of
plummets from great heights.

(1995)