Deep Breath (Revision)

[Lawrence]

Inhaling Exhaling



This is inhalation.

Think of a red balloon expanding.
Clouds sopping up light like paper towels
You in the cornfields with a scythe, at dawn;
Boys going from bush to bush, picking blueberries
As your father watches, taking his first cigarette drag.

Suspense thrives here.
The murderer is still hidden,
Knife in hand, behind the door
And our heroine is not at all aware.
The magician hasn’t pulled his rabbit,
I’m about to put out my birthday candles,
A boy has picked a dandelion, wanting his wish.

This is the stock market booming
The roller-coaster creeping up an incline
You in the woods, loading your hunting rifle
As mosquitoes buzz above, blood-straws brandished-
Your silence, and impatience with them and the noon sun.

This is exhalation.

Here, you’re cooling off your scolding hot spaghetti.
Someone has just told a joke about two rabbis.
Waves on the shoreline. Seagulls quarreling
As you let fog onto your sunglasses.
Now, your father puffs smoke rings
On the patio, and your boys
Have long been in bed.

The dark cinema erupts in horrified shouts
As the murderer emerges with a burst
And our heroine is taken by surprise.
You can here choirs singing,
The incantations of monks,
Men blowing on hands
Against street-posts.

This is the gunshot: The deer gurgling blood
And dying, your bullet resting in its rib.
This is the last sailboat leaving port,
Dandelion-seeds afloat in the wind
And the tears of a cheated boy.
Here, you’re on your porch,
An old man, thinking back
To blueberry picking-
Memory floods out
In a sigh.