i couldn’t breathe last night

and this morning when i looked in the mirror,

the glass painted mulberry commiseration around my eyes.

everything may be growing in your garden but mine

has been housing the antarctic frosts lately.

i’m not nervous i’m not nervous;

a conversation is only a blazing of teeth is only a fish’s tail

is only a flipmentical movement meant in selfsacrifice.

oh, can’t you see? i’m trying to relearn love.

i step outside and the central cinnamon skies

sweep the frozen tears wishboning at my chin;

i forget how to breathe again, but this time, everything’s easier.

i’m not afraid to live, i’m not afraid to live;

the words are sewn into my mind like dropped rose hips.

last night, my hoar-sewn breath signalled sickness,

today, my lungs open, unfold; their icy stems finally crack.

Elsa Kim