Maybe it's the thick
Of things. That's what
Takes your breath.
That thick sticky
Recombinant air.
Waiting, hanging, plotting
Against my lungs.

Or it could be the
Water. Poison swilling
In the bottle. Cutting a
Canyon inside me.
A crevasse I cannot
Cross.

My boots could be
The culprit. Strangling
My legs and tearing
Into my flesh.
They drag me by
My ankles. I'm
Being dragged for
Miles, but no one
Can know where.

The backpack is
Trying to save me.
Pulling against
Whatever
Took me here.
A friend trying to
Keep me from a fight.

My friend couldn't
Save me.
I must be dead.
The air must have
Taken my breath.
The poison river must have
Cut through me.
My boots must have
Taken me
To my grave.

And then I went to
Heaven.
The only place where
True beauty
Surrounds you like this.
Must. Be. Heaven.
Must be...