is a broken rib—
the same sharp pain,
wooden-lung breathing.
I stand alone in an
ocean of bodies,
mouthless half-faces,
gaping holes beneath
strips of cloth.
Your assumptions
dissolve me only
gradually—
an un-bronchial
consumption,
though still,
I am left gasping.
Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 10:53 AM UTC
is a broken rib—
the same sharp pain,
wooden-lung breathing.
I stand alone in an
ocean of bodies,
mouthless half-faces,
gaping holes beneath
strips of cloth.
Your assumptions
dissolve me only
gradually—
an un-bronchial
consumption,
though still,
I am left gasping.
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