POEM: Where Breath Isn’t Free

Woe is the place where breath isn’t free —
underwater, metaphorically or literally.

A cement-shoe walk through the pond,
looking up to the blurred and shimmering light
that you can’t reach —
with an intense urge to suck air,
air that isn’t there.

An attempted breath would be an act of suicide —
no more satisfying than any act of suicide —
but a good deal more painful than most.

4 thoughts on “POEM: Where Breath Isn’t Free

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