straight back

Image

They say the lungs are the seat of grief

Chest forced wide like a lamp hot with kerosene

Clavicle cracks with a forced breath

What had been so closed

Now bursts into the bright air

 

A damp forehead and an extended arm

The compression of days

Closes the way

Heart beating like a bird

Dark valves open and shut

Secret escapes and blank doors

 

A guide whispers my name

And beats a hot electric path

Down the ways

Straight back

To the opening of days

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