(the air wants out of the room)
it has wanted to stir since 6am when
the mother in this poem succumbed
like a concession to hysterics and life
long thoughts of doom.
the air wanted something other
than a crisis to touch, it wanted to
be noticed, taken in, freed; it did not
want to be held like a hostage
in the shallow grave of her breath.
the air tried to move, wished it
could lift itself like wind and
leave. but the windows were
shut, keeping the outside out,
and the inside in.
when the fire department came –
called by neighbors concerned they
hadn’t seen this family for weeks,
they found a mother and her six children
gasping for enough air to force a scream.