last

what is
a last breath

he imagines a scene

ice-light

blackness and blue-white

a grizzled figure
male
with hands folded
over his chest

he can almost feel
the imposing dead-weight
of the folded hands
and arms
across his own chest

restricting the freedom
of his own diaphragm
and lungs
to take in
the necessary quota
of air

and as he watches
in increasing self-discomfort

a white mist
rises
from the pale mouth

suspended

for a moment

then thins
disperses slowly

is that
it

maybe

but he wonders
if it isn’t also the gradual

stifling
and suffocation
of choices

narrowing with age
and the barely-suppressed awareness
of an unswayable
forward creep
towards infirmity

and the tease
of fleeting memories
whose laughter
each day
he hears
and feels
more pointedly

more distantly

what is it
really

the last breath

he doesn’t know
not really
but
he can imagine


© Frank Prem, 2017

Poem #19: sound returns

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One thought on “last

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