The Black Hole of Silence

When I became a father, I secretly gave myself permission to kill myself if anything ever happened to my daughter. The spot simply started appearing in my mind, near the Brooklyn side of the Manhattan Bridge,. where I would jump if something did happen. It comforted me to picture it when I couldn't sleep and was ruminating about sids or fascists or rising seas. Whatever the densest, purest form of silence is, the sound of closing the throat that sucks everything you've ever said or might have said into it, that was the non-sound I made when no air escaped through my windpipe.