I suppose I know now why you chose the river,
reading that Virginia Woolf put stones
in her pockets to sink herself down.
She was for you a perplexing guide of sorts,
she with her fierce pride in womanhood
who drowned herself rather than spoil
her husband’s life. At the end she heard
voices that kept her from working, from even
writing her suicide note properly.
You wandered off alone and I wonder,
as you reached the water’s edge,
were your pockets full of stones?