Only Breath
(after Jean Kent #2 Who
is Margaret?)
Would you carry this breath, a secret twin
to spill out sound bypassing audible waves
pressure the sternum at the point of change
invisible gasp
all that can be seen is surface ripples
a twitching mouth to say the words you don’t
write what won’t be read a trickle of blood
not ink
these names become labels become memory
in absence, your departure, the silence
always a pause, and then the outside world
fills the vacuum, sunlight knocking against
the roof
the washing machine, cicadas, a currawong’s
long
song someone shouting in the field
there are ways to spy on the inner life
sneaking in through respiration at night
when the guard is down
it’s not such so pretty, the falling skin,
clawing
at morning a harsh light of responsibility
slowly moving down the face, like an ocean
wave
coming in, a crest over our plans, the
sanctity of this
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