Swallowing AirA Poem by p.kuhl
While the car coughs, idle
in front of my house, I fish for a lighter. I squint as the space between two flakes of snow widens and separates, and the sound of it flicks away like the last flint click of the dead lighter in my hand. I need some fire, or at least some butane if I am ever going to finish this cigarette. In a perfect world I could just snap my fingers and that spinning onyx heart of mine would light the end, and then I could breathe deeply and reignite the slow glass surrounding my winter lungs. The car lurches away, just another fish, splitting lazy vapor in half like a skyward fin. In its wake I see the fog spiral inward, settling like backward ripples from skipping stones, and I am reminded of my own mortality, reminded of that space I knew once but have since lost, reminded of the lighter without flame, and I am perplexed by the red hot ember burning in my ashtray that adores the smoke in my eyes. © 2013 p.kuhlReviews
|
Stats
163 Views
2 Reviews Added on August 17, 2013 Last Updated on September 23, 2013 Authorp.kuhlBloomington, INAboutMy name is Pierce, and I am a 23 year old English major at Indiana University. "How easily I connect to you. You're always everything at once, somehow. You're shy and open, sweet and cold, curious .. more..Writing
|