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except this time my face turned down
tourniquet tether withers
a force in whimsied heat of an echo
over again i am pushed
we listen when we don't want to hear
our efforts honed to a flourishing exit
of time in space
a moment stolen
as if past us our true lives live...
i breathe in planes no pulse
repetition...

neck wrenched upward to see
myself in the mirror which is
the sky half submerged
captured and shaken
my blood a different color...

i feel no heat
so this song is sung
dry

© 2000 Lainey Johr