|
Morphine
I am aware of my lungs
my mosquito spine holding my knees to my chin as I wait
I ask if anyone has thought of playing
Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Mozart here we need to hear the heart- rate monitors, she tells me now be still
the sensation comes like crawling
– a thick sleeve of greenfly – small things decoding as roses
her voice is round and deep
in the hum and flicker of that room somewhere a persistent heart is pumping
|