Sunday, July 8, 2012

Nightmare

She wakes,
surfaces,
breathes,

Air rushes in,
hold.
Air rushes out,
hold.
Air rushes in,
hold.
Air rushes out,
hold.

She felt it,
heard it,
saw it,
thought it.

Stomach tensed,
taut like a bubble's surface.

Breathing in a rhythm,
slowing, slowing.





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