Monday, July 6, 2009

Like Asphyxiation

My heart is pulled taut,
like an erected marquee.
Perhaps is it my sternum, she says,
“perhaps it is your lungs” -
those things that flap and falter sometimes,
like two deceiving fiends.

Wheezing and grappling for air,
like a six year old in a swimming pool –
My arms are flailing, heavy breathing,
I wait for my wings to grow.

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