lungs;

inhale.

a knotted me
twisted in a knot,
catching april’s snow
with strands of wool
draped over
the body,
the limbs,
the bones.

hold.

the knot is just that –
a knot,
or the looping
and twining of
two lungs caught,
fives lobes stuck
in a breath,
held.

exhale.

the knot unknots,
the course resumes
in spirited strings,
imbuing skin
with light,
melting the cold,
this silent nomad
that had paused
on my every edge.


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