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What is the nature of the emergency
it is not desperation
no one is leaning over the overpass
the guardrail’s intact
bleeding is not uncontrollable
I can
see
with
both
eyes
no one’s mother needs a call
bones don’t protrude
the dog still exhales from truncated tunnels of her belly
nothing blew up today
What is the nature of the wound
for the first year
after
each time she left the house felt like a prayer
asphyxiation more comfortable than breath
bisecting arcs – one prism-seeking, one seeking merger with the terra
the body scissoring the string that snares us
What is the nature of the emergency
when I place my lips against hers, I taste blood
syllables strangle the sternum
dis-ease blossoms unencumbered by forgiveness
there is no deficiency of oxygen
no febrile seizures
sharp objects remain a safe distance from skin
no one’s heart gave up here today
What is the nature of the wound
my fingertips friction my palm and I meditate at a gold medal pace
my toes curl in my shoes but they will never spell I’m sorry
What is the nature of the wound
am I in the present moment
or does this feel old
keep a list
old
old
old
always old