Understanding air

Thank you for holding my wrists

while I grieve.

The gash is recovery, wide and invisible,

yawning in the shade

of your wing. Feathers over spikes,

hedgehog in hiding.

 

Forest green and swirls of sunlight,

understanding air;

we breathe and don’t.

 

Underwater sound,

or do I mean blindness?

 

Smudge lines and smoke from charcoal—

black

space and no space

need you nearer

until there is nothing between.

 

A shock of water brings me back.

The color washes off without loss…

I dip my fingers in it

and streak the sky