There are dogs barking next door, they've been at it for at least an hour and for some reason, it is making me Incredibly anxious
and all at once I am remembering every wound I ever inflicted or received
as though I were both the blade and the parting flesh, and I feel as though
I have always been this moment, this suspended breath
Slowly circling around a clenched fist until the time of my expiry
I am the snapping of a dogs jaws and the spit that hits the ground
and I am still, too, the ground that shivers in disgust at such violence,
anyway, its probably just the anxiety talking, probably just me stumbling again
over words and truth in my haste to release whatever air I keep trapped in my lungs
whatever wound inside me is currently yawning open and closed, quick as the caught birds' breast
hey, i think the dogs have stopped barking