Alchemy in Breath

Please let me hide
with you,
glorious ghost,
in the blanket dark,
under the closet door space,
between the pages
of the ancient
dust-covered words
withering on their parchments,
creating spiced sparkling odes,
mixing memory and mayhem,
intertwining with
the sunlight,
ruffling book jackets
and whispers of dragons
found within the ink.

And I ran across then,
a song so sweet
and goddamn fierce
that it swept me
to younger lifetimes,
my dad and I
walking early in the morning
on school days,
dips into the cool fog,
waltzing atop
mountain peaks
in silence
because grounding
doesn’t always
need talking,
hush now,
and just listen
to your own
fucking air,
bellowing out of you,
blocking out all else
but your noisy lungs,
settling back into your bones,
owning your space,
taking it back
with raging fire
if you must,
be here,
making alchemy
with your breath.


I can tell I unnerve you,
like so many ghosts
before you,
who cackle at the rain
and always crave
habitual summer sweatings
and hiking up of skirts
in sandboxes
with the mud
sloshing round our ankles,
cursing the skies
that birthed us
down to earth
from our origin star-scapes,
heaving fire as we fell
to the earth
with a crunch of
bones on asphalt
in the middle of a
busy intersection,
though it did not matter
because no humans
were looking upward
to the moon anymore
in these times of the
Great Machines,
so our descent
went unnoticed
by the masses
and we kinda liked it that way.