About Breath


we’re together round a small screen
like I remember when you were young
round the hearth   but there’s no flame
and the doctor is pointing with a red pen
at a cavity between your lungs   talking
about lymphocytes which have formed
like a new territory   a whereabouts
we’re heading towards   and this breath
this every-day in and out   is sucked
with a gasp   the force of a fist
inside my chest   and I am aghast
how my breath I hardly notice   now breathes



Published in Ink Swear and Tears

All Poetry, Prose, Photos & Collages by Gill Horitz