2008 Woodie Awards
Restraint
By: Hannah Sullivan
Issue date: 3/14/08 Section: Features
The whiteness of the page is an invitation--
Like how certain rooms,
in certain houses,
make me want to smash things.
A Brancusi egg,
into a baby grand.
Like how bridges and cliffs
aren't scary because I might fall,
but because I might jump.
The relief would be staggering.
I remember playing a game on the edge of the ocean
slowly wading into the icy water until
I felt the undertow grow stronger than me
and terrified, running back to my mama.
Who on a hike,
saw a mushroom,
and told my brother to stop it.
I was horrified.
But I understood.
Like how certain rooms,
in certain houses,
make me want to smash things.
A Brancusi egg,
into a baby grand.
Like how bridges and cliffs
aren't scary because I might fall,
but because I might jump.
The relief would be staggering.
I remember playing a game on the edge of the ocean
slowly wading into the icy water until
I felt the undertow grow stronger than me
and terrified, running back to my mama.
Who on a hike,
saw a mushroom,
and told my brother to stop it.
I was horrified.
But I understood.
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