Seventy-Six Percent

To take this decision –
to take this life –
Off discharged thoughts
but it is my choice

I wake disturbed
by a scratched record –
Will this be the day
when I feed the birds?

We scared males –
curtailed in acuity –
will swing from the beams
far too easily

This tear-stained rope –
now held in my hands —
I am throwing it up
into no man’s land