there is no air
it has been sucked out by the world
by the whirled smoke of a thousand
burning buildings
by the raised eyebrow
of the man down the street
by the grains of sand on the beach
that no one walks on
by the broken heart
silent and dark
beaten, not beating
by the balloons filled
and sated, now soaring
on the end of a thin string
by the attitude of the altitude
of the head in the clouds
by the house all alone
at the edge of the world
vacant windows flung wide
as the wind would rush through
if it could
but there is no air

and I am hungry for it
starving for lung filling
skin cooling
something to walk on
conditioned
or kite filled
like milk spilled
can’t cry for it
eyes dried by it
hair lifted
like wings floating
bubbling brooks
pages in books flip for it
leaves fall through
cushions of pockets of
holding it til you turn blue
for it
breathe in and out
sigh for it die without
sing about
give a shout
all needing air
as I climb
I am out of it
out of the clouds
there is sky
filled with sails
I would spin til
I’m dizzy with
drunk on
the wind

Poetic Asides prompt: vacuum

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