STRUCTURE 1

it is most curious

when i choke on the thought of my father
the lines in my forehead
press into my brain
and the shape of breathe
the shape of his skull
shapes the air around me
the shreds of skin breathe
the shreds of skin on his fingers
hang from mine
he breathe
he breathes breathe
he breathes my hair
and his stillness breathe
his stillness pours from my skin breathe
his stillness fills the house breathe
filling it with fiftyfive years of breathe
of depression breathe

and it is most curious when i breathe
a round firm
two inch black ball of flesh
presses on my chest when i
breathe my chest presses into the air when i
breathe the air presses into the city when i
breathe the city presses into the earth when i
breathe the earth presses into the solar system when i
breath the solar system presses into the galaxy when i
breathe the galaxy presses into the universe when i
breathe the universe
a round firm two inch black
ball of flesh presses
on my heart
making the beat ring in my ears
and temples

it is most curious