Don’t Look Down • Alex Stolis

Juanita’s getting tired of the late days
and short nights. She knows better
than to trust the sky to tell her the way
to the bottom of the sea -- understands

an angel needs cold wings in order to fly.
I like wide open spaces, she says, enough
room to make the really big mistakes.
Her braid falls over one eye, she’s a punk

rock Veronica Lake pulling me across
the room with a promise -- she whispers
two small lies and I thank gravity
for dragging me down from the mountain.