Impulses

(x = space)

Impulses

Exhaling’s good

We feel as if we’re

Letting go,

Letting things out

We no longer

Need

Maybe small cells

Of disease

(don’t breathe those

at anyone),

Maybe

Small particles of

Memory we

Could do without

Because they act like

Sickness,

Like an infection

Maybe we’ll

Straighten up a little

As we inhale,

Let the shoulders

Do their part

Maybe we’ll inhale

Healthy remembrance,

As life allows

For these, the

Memories that heal

It’s a dicey game

That is no game

Breathing, hurting,

Healing,

Breathing some more

We learn from

this, from these

It’s why we

Went to school,

To learn how

To learn

To breathe

C L Couch

Photo by Erik Dungan on Unsplash

clcouch123

I prefer Christopher in conversation. In writing, I use C L Couch because it’s a genderless form of my name and, frankly, easier—I have severe writer’s cramp. I mean to be a poet writing spiritual and occasional verse. The photographs used permanently here—for the banner, for my profile—were taken by Debra Danielson, a photographer and friend. You may enjoy more of her work at debra.danielson.org. If you would credit me when quoting my work, I'd be thankful. As I am thankful for your presence here.

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