Thursday, April 14, 2011

Septicemia

The intake of air

that follows your name

coats my diaphragm

in ice.


The sharp clicks of consonants

the lulls in my phrasing

clink the frozen weight

against my ribs,

pieces of muscle

scattering about the body cavity.


When I am sleeping

(when there is no me

without you)

Melting occurs.


I am sick today.

When I bend my fingers

around the spoon

and steering wheel

the little pieces of you

jab into my veins,

sharper still in the central canals

the aorta.


I don’t know much

about illness, except

that Motrin and Tylenol

are not the same thing .


I do know that converting

oxygen to carbon monoxide

is a million tiny victories.

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