attempts on my life

I had a skateboard when I was younger
and I was good
uncoordinated and shit at not falling over my own two feet,
but on that board I glided.

My sister fell once, and
if the board was even visible in a room before she entered
it had to be removed.
She never wanted to fall the same way again.

I thought she was mad,
now looking back at all the times I flung myself headfirst into the jaws of indecision, burning buildings and war zones
I am amazed I am still alive.

I survived soot and rubble
broken glass and the ripping of happiness from my chest every time I fell
I think my organs were tired of me
tired of working to save me when I failed to save myself.

I was destruction and discord
apocalypse made flesh
suicide in an already destroyed form
my sister never wanted to fall that way again,

and me,

I just wanted to glide.

Gervanna Stephens is a Jamaican poet and proud Slytherin with congenital amputation living in Canada. Her work has appeared in magazines like 8 poems, TERSE. Journal, WusGood.black, Whirlwind Magazine, Enclave, 12 Point Collective and Anti-Heroin Chic. She hates public speaking, has two sisters who are way better writers than her and thinks unicorns laugh at us when we say they aren’t real. Tweets @gravitystephens.