Poem with an Ear Pressed to the Ground

That it would come down
to the science of breathing
 
how the lungs receive oxygen
how a pulse becomes stilled
 
that it would come down
to the compression of an airway
 
somewhere between the diameter
of a quarter and a dime
 
shallow breaths the equivalent
of surgical removal of the left lung
 
trying to breathe with fingers and knuckles
under the force of 90 pounds of pressure
 
like sipping air through a drinking straw
that it would come down to 12 peers
 
in chairs palpating their own throats
to feel the pulse beneath their probing
 
fingers, the tender skin indent
the metric beat of pumping blood
 
an ear pressed to the ground
prone and pleading
 
all of us needing the one
who we all came from
 
who held her breath
spent and waiting
 
for a newborn to cry
to breathe with life.
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