Covered With Lint
By Katie McAllaster Weaver

She keeps suicide
stuffed deep in her pocket,
covered with lint
from disuse.

She takes it out,
holds it to the light.

Sometimes on Mondays,
she puts suicide
in her mouth,
swishing it like wine,
testing the taste
on her tongue.

Often so drunk,
she shares her suicide
at parties
or in elevators,
listening to the sound
of it ricocheting
off the ears of
strangers.

Once,
she even wrote it,
bold and all in caps
on a piece of folded paper.

Afraid to use it,
but even more terrified
of throwing it away,
she keeps suicide
stuffed deep in her pocket,
covered with lint
from disuse.