7/365: Taking On Water
this is all there is:
a deep heft within the chest walls,
as though the air inside is seawater,
heaving and undrinkable,
unfathomable and thick,
and if one could wrest empathy’s roots from the ribcage,
that would be the surest route,
to just tear them out and compost them with the houseplants that didn’t make it.
Some days, decaying and rich seems better,
the kind of breakdown that serves.
I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.