One day you took
a lot more time to
take the kind of breath
that meant something
You coughed, too,
though it was the
hottest part of
the middle of August
And then your heart
started racing and
that desperate worry
settled in,
like a spider
on a ficus leaf
You’ve held out this long
you’ll hold out longer.
But you said it through
gritted teeth as you clutched
at those important parts
Then you remember,
all at once,
that sometimes things don’t
end the way
you want them to.
With every passing moment
the straps get tighter
and that breath you once loved
is only a memory
the sieve and the sand 