Russell Sorgi’s Suicide, 1942

She waved below and jumped into
the void of her own short fall,
how alive she was in her final
moment, almost heard

the shutter click
as she passed a window on
the second floor, the question still:
who is this girl

outside the Genesee Hotel –
10 cents for sandwiches, a buck
a room – then, sprawling on the kerb
with coppers

mulling over what and why.
She flew and left the human mess
behind:

had made the choice, despised
her chances, paused over faces
so far away and closing fast

those last few vital yards above

Dominic James lives in Glos and has been writing poems for a dozen years or so. He attends poetic gatherings from Whitstable to the Wirral and is widely published, most recently in Pulsar Poetry and Wildfire Words, with two collections out: Pilgrim Station (2016) and Smudge (2022).

djamespoetic.blogspot.com