mudlung
Breath & Taxes
Weightless, drifting Through thoughtless blue Without thought for it. My womb after the womb. Cool, caressing. My tomb, But not in that distant way That I’m not aware of yet. More intimate. Ears cupped, Body buoyed, Rocked gently, I am content in my mother’s embrace. Weightless. I still dream of it, Of her. And the home I’ve never been to. Of water’s cool embrace, Where space felt boundless, And movement cost nothing. Even here, above, On land I dwell, Beneath this spiteful sun. Baking in hateful heat, I feel it leach, what little water I have left, Stealing it from me. Wringing me out in every way, Every day since there’s been A sun to count days to. I blink the dust from my eyes With sideways lids, And burn carbohydrates, turn heat to kinetic energy. Tighten tendons, pull Organs and bone with muscles tightening. I traverse the earth. Pressed flat by gravity, Into dirt. The earth Staking its claim, too early. I breathe and even the air is heavy, Unclean. My lungs fight gravity For the privilege to it. My empty belly drags over dirt And sharp things. Nerve endings, I grew these... Specifically to hurt. It’s how I feel things. My relationship to this world is Transactional. As it is with all things That gave up gills for lungs, Taxed for everything. And then taxed again. Invoiced, even for the end of it.