AND HE TOLD ME NOT TO BREATH IN INFECTED AREAS
He told me to hold my breath in such infected areas,
And I question if I would had he not told me.
I felt myself transpire, the pink of her jam to blue.
About opening my mouth and being so gently poisoned by the sweet mustard gas
of reality, He appeared. An endless supply of intangible
in the sound of his words I knew I did not have to breathe to live.
Although, when we shared the air of one another’s mouths I was hopelessly alive.
By Holly P H
Photos: Georgia Foreman