harbors a superiority complex.
Let’s dress up and hold a hollow bar
across the world, force a game of limbo,
listen for the whip crack of knees,
the punch grunt of new pain.
Shred our knuckles swollen,
bath them in bandages. This is a game
where we see how long we hold our breath
under icy water. The mind plays tricks,
the cold becomes flame, we shed our clothes
in the middle of a blizzard. Fresh snow
has a smell — a whiff of pre-avalanche,
of stratospheric fall, a mix of iron and sand,
the color difference of deadly games.
I don’t know many evil people
but I read about them in the headlines.
Everyone I know is afraid. Everyone I know
has trouble going to sleep, waking up,
eating a complex world in between.
I want your permission to release this breath,
carefully put it back where I found it — held.
©️ Trapper Markelz 2022
