Friday, July 01, 2005

Come On In; The Water's Great!

Hi there. What are you wearing? Yeah?
Me? Oh, you know, just some old faded stretch pants and a striped tank; nothing special. Why are you breathing so hard--are you OK?
Oh--are you sure? Alright. I was worried for a sec. You still sound a little winded. Maybe you should get a paper bag. Don't worry; I'll hold the line. I'll be right here when you get back. No, go ahead--I'll wait. I can sense your panic. Do this: stop talking for a minute and just breathe in, then breathe out, nice and slow.

There, that's better. Now just keep kicking.


Cover photo, Near Surfacing by Cindy S. St. Onge Posted by Picasa

Air Hunger

It is an ironic pain
to burn from the inside out,
wholly immersed in water.

Sinuses burn, and your throat.
Even the roof of your mouth burns
in this agonal craving.

Your heart and lungs burn hottest of all.
Not from ravenous flames—swift
and merciful in their work, but searing from
orange-hot coals, lazy embers—
scorching, radiating, starving;
dispensing death a few
white ashes at a time.


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