A poem composed to recount the night before. Moments of breathless being.

The night before, where I could feel the flesh hanging from my skeletal frame.

Animating presence, I

could not feel where I began and the body

ended. And so

I just crouched down low to listen and feel

to quiet the internal and divine that which I,

could sense, the rain

beating down into puddles

slapping and sublimating.

My breath withdrew with such control

emptying all air,

beyond a point I thought possible

to excuse the last vestiges of energy sequestered within my gut.


to sit with it.