The Fortune Teller

In the playground
We gathered around the fortune teller
With his flapping paper mouth,
Pinched between anxious fingers.
Pick a colour. Red.
Icy shadows stretch behind closed doors
And the name tag nips your chest
So you can barely breathe.
Your only comfort is a razor blade
Grinning from the second drawer
With his delicious, melting mouth.
But still the bible in the third drawer
Reminds you that God is benevolent.
Pick a number. Three.
Counting under your breath. One.
You step onto the chair in the centre
Of the kitchen. For once
You are the focus of everyone’s attention.
The walls lean in to watch intently.
Two. You fasten the love knot
Around your neck. One motto;
Slip in, slip away.
You prepare for the release
Like that time, cliff diving in New Zealand;
The sea was an azure scarf below
And the gulls were so white
It was as if they were folded from paper.
Three. You jump.
Your body swings like a pendulum,
No longer a prisoner of time.