Apology to the Cliff Diver

We’re at the edge of the cliff and I know

we could fall any second. You know

this could kill you, right?

and it’d kill me too, rip into me

with tiger teeth. When I signed the dotted line,

I didn’t read this fine print.

You’ll dive to your death, still smiling. Tell me

to embrace it—but I can see the jagged rocks

and I don’t have a death wish. Someday

you’ll tell me

I don’t want you around.

It will be expected.

I’ll forgive a fear

of constant risk. You’re blameless

and I’m sorry,

I know I’m a mess. I know

I stained your pretty white dress

and the bouquet I brought you.

If I could stop this, I would.

Self-preservation is self-restriction

and I’ve made myself a zoo animal,

watching the world

from my enclosure.

Tiger girl, cheetah smile,

keep those bloody teeth quiet—

that force of destruction contained.

You dive, I don’t,

that’s the agreement:

we’re in love with the fall

but you won’t forgive me.