Creative / Poetry

Death’s Air

By Nicholas Brady

If you listen to the ocean on the right day
You will hear of the blooms that
With the inhaling of breath alone
Can erase all life from the only world it ever knew

Nobody ever said
But words came like inspiration
These letters strung together
Like strange fruit ornaments,
Or dull sawteeth, still dangerous,
Mistook the object of my eye,
Became a target.

Enemies received their pain,
Beautifully I might add,
But eyes do not only see enemies
Eyelashes like crosshairs,
We see each other too,
Not always for victory.
So I dulled my words,
Shaved the barbed edges
Producing a dust that stunk
Of terror and guilt

My words will be
A hammer that harms
The wood while beating the nail
No more
I said,
I could finally see,
Terror in the gaps
Between language and you.

Breathing can be a force
Too sharp, so sharp
That it finds its target
In the dark
Precise, So precise
Makes any and
All targets
Grow silent
Instead of

You want to bloom
So care is anything but a luxury
You come to being
Endings are your bearings, the fate you carry

What a glorious thing
It is to be
The thing that
The thing that

Can we ever embrace
That thing that
With breath alone
Can summon death’s air
Make this world,
Stinking of rotten flesh and
Worthless tears of pity,
Into the nothing
It already was?


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