I toggle, foot to foot

Failing at cooling my bare-feet down
From our sunbaked, splintered boat house roof

The landscape,
A north-country panorama
Exposing bald summits resting on pine forests pierced by stripped, bare islands

I peer over the precipice,
My stomach abruptly lurching
When I reassess the height, Negligible only moments ago

A twig dangles over the side before leisurely losing its balance,
Beginning its extended journey to the water
I shiver, observing it fall down, down, down,
All that’s left behind,
Escalating ripples

I visualize myself as the twig; free falling,
Landing with a splash submerged in bitter water

Split into two complete opposites,
One demanding me to jump,
The other begging me to return to the safety of my house

Suddenly the water below me rushes away,
Abandoning me 100 stories high,
Bending anxiously over the side of a skyscraper

I beg myself to take my leap of faith
Hands for support, I sacrifice two steep, cautious steps to the precise edge;
Expanding the strides way longer than they’re meant to take
I halt when barely half of my foot is dangled freely over the side

Examining the descent,
I prepare for the rush of freezing water
That in just a few seconds of dropping will surround me,

I imagine myself as the twig one last time,
Soaring through mid-air, plummeting into motionless water
Expecting the worst;
I Fill my lungs with one last mouthful of air,
Plug my nose and then
I jump.