Poetry and Prose
Suddenly I was too weak to move
a poem about forgetting how to breathe
i.
My trachea closes up;
traps any air
wanting to travel down
to the microscopic bronchioles
The alveoli stay waiting
to filter the good from the bad
The carbon dioxide
builds up in my esophagus
lingers inside my mouth
poisons, slowly
makes me collapse
into a shell of myself
like a raging fire
beaten to ashy dust
ii.
I was told the dolphin
is the only animal
that had to remind itself
to breathe. That’s why it slept
with one eye open. Or half its brain awake.
(One or the other, I don’t remember)
I guess we’re kindred spirits.
I don’t know
how many times
the act eludes me
how many times
I have to remind myself
to breathe
in a single day
iii.
One time, the first or second,
it happened in a movie theatre
An hour into the action
in the seat six rows up
five seats in
I could not feel my left arm anymore.
My breath got
heavier and heavier
harder and harder
shorter and shorter
like an old engine
using all of its strength
to do half of what the others did
naturally
The second or third time
the snow quivered through the wind
the weight of all the things
that festered inside me
spilled from within
Instead of exhaling
I kept breathing in
My lungs never got full
they grasped at what I fed them
and as he held my hand to calm me
I wondered what I did to deserve him
iv.
He learned the word breathe for me
in my native language
to show he cared
to remind me that peace
was a breath away
however complicated I made it seem
One long, drawn-out deep breath
could make the world go dark
still my beating heart
transform quick flutters to
steady
beat
drum
v.
I think of breathing a lot
how I hope to conquer it
to uncover its secrets
to discover its potential
like great people once did
many lifetimes ago
I wish to conquer breath
like men wish to conquer death
before they both take me, hostage
in my old age
That we may become friends
wondering why we quarrelled so much
I would remember the word tanafassee
and the measure of breath in his touch.
