closed eyes fathom too much
by Ava Blu
when I can’t concentrate,
I begin breathing differently
something heaves in a way only birds can hear
and the wind seems to be twirling around my lungs
it’s some type of panic attack,
I assume,
and I seem to never have help around
[but I wouldn’t want it]
it’s as if you are dead with your eyes open,
the scent of the dirt and grass is upon your breath
and you no longer wish to be closed
this is when I know a love that only exists in Nature
and I never mind not being able
to see.
03/16/2009
