Friday, September 3, 2021


Where my lungs 
met my heart, 
it was air minus air 

when you left; 
it was blood 
drained of oxygen's 

flair when you left.
To my eyes, 
it was light 

with its sweet 
waves of white 
boiled out.

If only I now
could see 
through those eyes 

as they pitied me then—
could here resurrect 
the primordial planet 

on which 
such a demented 
physics made sense—

I'd feel I might 
still yet survive
my own death.