breathe

my breath is caught in my throat

or in my lungs, halfway

down the dark canals

of mouth and bone

or am I wilting?

the notes are not where they used to

be, the patterns of my ribcage

traced in lines

down my sides

have they forgotten how to expand?

or have my muscles collapsed?

clogged with dust

and pieces of all the songs

I didn’t sing

and now the notes are

rusty, stuck behind the

husky bars of broken

breath support;

I don’t mind if I die, but please

I need to have the breath to

sing if I’m alive