"Yes, Nicole, breathing is good for you."
spheres full of oxygen, racing, glittering over our heads.
I try to catch your racing breath
as it rushes out of reach.
I think to myself "this must be the atlantic"
because inside my blood is getting cold and slow
and it's nothing like the volcanic ocean I love back home.
But as the waves come, they roll me far away
and I feel myself lose sight of your face.
Your face - and the pockets full of air and light.
Echos of your song, breaking the surface of the sky
with tangled seaweed and sweetgrass and clouds and Chronos keeping time.
But I let the dread stay inside
because eventually, I'll come up for air,
and find the land you promised would be there.
