Before I Do It...
by Odin Roark

Before I do it,
my cellphone rings at the other end,
like a drip from ice melting,
forever stretching its moment,
doing what it does best,
prolong.

When finally a voice says "hello,"
my mouth opens,
but like the icicle
suddenly ensconced by a frigid waft,
my moment is frozen.

"Hello" comes the voice a second time,
the voice I know,
but wish to forget,
again.

With sweat soaked hand,
I tuck the cell back
in its safety net atop my heart
and walk the few steps further.

The railing is nothing.
The balance will be harder.
The peering down into rushing water,
will be oh so inviting.

The pause.
The moment.
At last,
finality.

I gag,
hurdle forward,
sitting up in bed as if in a plunge.

To awaken from such a dream
is unfair.

I'm afraid.
I'm so afraid to dial again
before I really do it.