1.

On this night, the canister

landed between our feet,

sprouting a bulbous, billowing white heaven,

 

empty of harps & mercy,

void of any God & uninterested

in finding one.

 

There is a flash of light,

a sudden moment when

the whole world is swallowed

 

in a bright clap & bang,

& then—is remade piece

by piece in the moonlight.

 

I’m running & the ground

appears again, the bits of grass

sprouting like small, fractured

 

Edens between the pavement,

the handful of cars my waist swivels past—

& the night is not over.

The whole world,

yes, the whole

world is here.

 

2.

The fourth time it happened, I discovered

the body cowers involuntarily, will give up

its senses in exchange for relief

& despite the blinding burn,

will wholly survive.

 

It is a horribly bearable ruin—

the tinny sour of tear gas,

both hand-less & choking,

dares your body to escape itself

& empty the skeleton of all its parts

 

& rid your flesh of mist, this smoke

that brandishes nothing but stinging cloud

& still lacerates your chest,

spasms your lungs into hard fury

til the cough & the cough & cough

 

& the cough breath the cough & breath

cough cough turns to gag & gag.

Even your kidney shudders with force.

You think your whole gut has uprooted

& will leave you tonight.

 

& all of this while blinded. All of this

in a noisy darkness that is clamor

& crying & a chorus of throats

all sucking acid until they

find clean air.

 

You forgot your burning sockets

while your chest ruptured open;

you forgot your chest with all the desperate

gagging; you forgot the gagging while

your eyes drowned themselves

 

until the acid drowned, too—streamed

 

down your cheeks & softened, cooled your lungs,

 

metronomed your breathing & released

 

your eyelids, your fists, the whole night sky,

 

so big & finally visible again.

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