by Arthur Klepchukov

Today I learned to breathe
and the air was full of fragments
that tasted like the moment.
I didn’t dare hold on.
Just inhaled all I could and waved
at dusk-soaked curtains and darker ocean folds
and warmer nights stretching into tomorrow.
A summer fever collapsed into a
delicate ember with beads of sweat,
pockets of cool breath, ice cubes
succumbing into wet,
all gentle ephemera.
Watched the flames flicker
a familiar lullaby,
the only patch of color in a forest noir,
debuted and left us where we are
lonely in a moonless dream
fed by memories that were just lived.
Sat idle, welcoming the dark
nose tickling with last hints of smoke
whispering a thousand ways of saying g’bye,
and then, I exhaled June.


Inspired by Delerium – “Apparition”