Cougher

I look at you
and I almost don't believe
the weight of prevailing
evidence. I dream
that death won't slip his hand
up your skirt and unfold you
from within. I imagine your eyes
always blinking beyond my sight,
behind this ghost of smoke
you inflate my lungs with.
It is as though
you'll always have another
exhalation.

Considering the alternative,
your cough is so full of life.



by jerry gordon