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Literature Text
gravity settles along my collarbones
and into the spaces between my ribs,
pulls me closer.
i ask,
"am i going to die?"
and it responds,
"eventually."
i keep coughing up all the words that stick in my throat.
my lungs are trying to expel something but
i don't know what it is and
i'm dizzy from the medication.
i look back at my breathing problems
trying to find a correlation but
all i see are constellations--
no, that's just sp ot t y vision,
am i going to faint again?
i can't breathe, but
that's normal.
inhale
inhaler
exhale
forgetting to breathe may be p o e t i c
but i never could breathe in the first place.
and into the spaces between my ribs,
pulls me closer.
i ask,
"
and it responds,
"eventually."
i keep coughing up all the words that stick in my throat.
my lungs are trying to expel something but
i don't know what it is and
i'm dizzy from the medication.
i look back at my breathing problems
trying to find a correlation but
all i see are constellations--
no, that's just sp ot t y vision,
am i going to faint again?
i can't breathe, but
that's normal.
inhale
inhaler
exhale
forgetting to breathe may be p o e t i c
but i never could breathe in the first place.
Literature
Odds and Ends
A cup is just a cup
until it's the last cup that she touched,
and a car
is just a way from a to b
until it's the way that she arrived
at z.
A picture in a frame
is lovely to see, even if only ever viewed
in the background, passively,
but when the image
locks in place
the last smile on her face
then your grief turns to regret
for the memory
trapped beneath the glass.
An old pair of slippers,
tucked neatly beside the door,
stepping over
every time you cross the threshold,
until the day
when you have to toss those old things away
and they are as heavy as anchors
and more treasured
than diamond.
A scent that fills your head,
the comfort of a f
Literature
blackbird
.
i.
i like to count your ribs when you're not looking.
the hollow dips, the gentle pressure they put on your skin.
you're underweight by a few ticks of the scale,
but,
so am i.
ii.
we both hate taking our medicine.
so my hands shake and your lungs ache,
but we just laugh it off because we're young and we have forever.
right?
iii.
you like different books.
that's okay.
iv.
we rip the pages out of our memoirs and cry on your bedspre
Literature
liii.
while i sit in my crumpled shirt,
naked legs and bleached underwear
i ponder about silence and solitude
along with the brotherhood they share
they were the flat lines in heart monitors,
the shooting stars that happen behind your back
the budding flowers and sleeping children
the world that happens while you sleep
and like the ticking of the clock
they bear a loneliness
that was either too loud or unnoticed
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but i've never touched a cigarette
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Comments21
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the little description just adds even more beauty to this one 