Inhale . . . . . . . . . . . . Exhale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . Inhale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . Exhale . . . . . . . . . . . . . Inhale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Blow
Any sudden movement and I might burst
Stay still and close and perhaps we will merge
This is not a poem about bubbles.
Like so I exist in space, in a secluded protective membrane, pushed forward by the invisible hand of the wind and up by the heat of my breath, warm breath, carrier of breath, carrier of me, carrier of that part of me we all fear the most.
Inhale. Exhale. Watch. Observe.
.
Disinfect
I am infected
And so will you
be
with
me
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