A man under water
will breathe water-
one taste, reluctantly,
and then deeply
drinking what he needs
in another form
until it fills him,
the way a smoker,
deep in thought or
desperate, draws breath,
the rush, the chem-
ical enchantment
with its thousand shocks,
its wash of nicotine
as-adrenaline until
his heart’s aflutter
until it’s not, as here,
tipping back his head
– three cups beside him:
pills, mashed ice, top teeth –
his heart having sunk
yet the body so
starved for one sip of
oxygen he goes on
trying, taking
his last (the doctor
calls it) agonal
breaths-meaning no air’s
pulled in, his jaw
goes down, he nods
in slow ascent, oh
waves, oh fabulous
smoke, oh lovely (our
breath’s gone too)
memory, breathing in.
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