Barb Smith
A July 2nd
Gravity acts on one angry body gravity acts on one abandoned body I pull into my lungs some defiance that pumps my blood time is caught erratic music box gasps from a trash bag leaving its container everything inside pushing out changing form I am pushing out changing form my lungs unholding thoughtfully shifting my position seeing what is not yellow nor a fitting thing realizing I cannot will or give or take breath before and after and during a pause I listen reserve sound for later default to how a hanger opens the blinds note survival notice when sight ends unheard why one two three watches here what about metal rulers where I let go forcefully she asks it’s not easy to die is it I am awkwardly deaf to the request but insist on breathing that green or how the water smells the hard bed the carpet the burn the light the birds where seeds end I breathe the whole thing without thinking where does the air go I sweat decide this infinite moment has no in and hinges on needing water I am aware that I am breathing difference to memory to passing atmosphere to what to keep hover eyes land on cup rubber band notebook pen.
