To breathe

The world shrinks into view, half a bug-eye,
Fogs up with suction and the effort
Of lungs tugging at latex. Stubborn plumber.
There is nothing to unclog here except
Layers and layers of filter, voice altering every
Suck and puff, a wheezing uncle up stairs,
Breathing only in our head. Nasal and stuck up.
Soppy tissue paper. Damp from our
Mouths struggling like fish
Trying to create water
With each gurgling breath
That is harder to take.
Stay alive, it gets us
High, our eyes roll the
World till it floats
In our goggles. We
Are giddy with
Teeth and smile.

Breaking the surface we lift our face from the alien’s seductive black cover and
Inhale the blue sky like a god taking back its creation. Still alive. Lick
A ring of sweat around our mouth and check the flush is working.
The suit tries to eat us but we have to strip it like carp skin
And dry the shimmering scales on our arms.
There were no tears and snot to be had, even after drawing a mouthful
Of the gas in search of a meaning to breathe. Pity, that tear-streaked
Prayer of gratitude for clean air is the climax of life as we
Tether tippy toes dancing begging bug-eyed for release.
That is the violence of what it means to breathe.