Suicide Watch
“So let us not talk falsely now, the hour’s getting late.”
-“All Along the Watchtower,” Bob Dylan
I never intended to collect suicides.
They’re not your typical tchotchkes, and I never
sought them out.
The group emails.
The early morning texts.
The call, at 2:32 am.
They say things come in threes.
A streak of good luck, a series
of diagnoses, a string of suicides.
At seven months sober, Jeff drank.
Mid-manic break, Nick ran across 93.
On his 16th wedding anniversary,
Craig cut his neck. They say
God doesn’t give us anything
we can’t handle. They say Jesus died
for our sins. I say he should’ve come down
off his fucking cross. Aunt Sarah says
Andi’s not well. Could I check on them?
Things come in threes.
They’re ok they’re ok they’re ok
Andi’s not OK, but still,
they text me,
every morning.
Andi texts me every morning.
Danielle Fontaine received her MFA in 2012 from the University of Massachusetts, Boston. Her poems have earned honorable mentions in both the Writer’s Digest and the Academy of American Poets contests and, as a finalist, her poem “Bottle” appears in the Modern Grimmoire Anthology. Her work has been featured on NPR’s “Here and Now” website as well as in Prick of the Spindle, Front Range, Juked Poetry and others.
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