Slide out

To the last
of the stomached breath
before going under
water without your eyes
peeled, holding the hum,
tight.
And gripping the thin tube
feeling sound steam out
like a trombone’s rattling prayer
on the express
with the carriage packed,
bag growling at the seam,
the audience condensing,
as if some mystic gas
were blurring the room
like wonder descending,
liable to eviscerate
the air at once
and it slurs and blows
and slides
out.

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