The Airy World
You've begun to breathe, brimming your lungs
with my small sea: practice
for the true thing, the first tug
of air into your slick, cresting body.
Even now, you might survive
if pushed from the deep.
With each false breath, you are drifting closer
to the airy world, this place where we'll touch
but forever be parted, and parting.
The Southern Review Winter 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Anemone Beaulier
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission