VIII. Square Breathing by Jane McGrath

in those darkest nights it’s you

I feel… It was snowing, the type of snow that’s dark because the sky is too, and in the distance, across

the lot - as big as you’d expect a hospital lot to be - sat this intersection beneath the shadow of

the city’s silhouette (some shops, a couple cars, a few street walkers) and a fading neon sign to

watch it all.

Square Breathing Churning whirlpool in the hollow, shallow source the whirling thought hold together, battered vessel, leak not ocean, blaze, or fire, grasp it tightly and constrain it, let the roots be laid out strong: four beats inwards, four to still, four more to pour out squall and gale four beats rest and calm and silence, let winds mirror what’s below till the drum reaches its standstill, till the waters clear once more weary the crew’s arms are now, under sky that’s aching blue.

Yet beneath the heavens’ seam, storms still linger out of reach hiding, biding time in numbers to choke what’s living on the sea; so till next time point your ship well, steer it with a watchful eye. Although not too wary, mind you, lest your crew cry mutiny.

—-So Below

Darkness, only darkness underground, Sustain yourself off roots, off drinking sap, Forge on only for the faint memory of light, Above your burrowing grounds, where now the trees, Stretch tall enough to brush the underbelly of the sun,

A sun you’ll never reach, even with full-grown wings.

Molt and molt and molt again, your wings, Grow less vestigial, for every month underground, Perhaps one day you’ll know, what is this “sun”, Because with every sip you sip of sap, You taste them speak of it, the winding trees, In every viscous amber song, present the virtues of its light.

One day you burrow up towards that light, Even though they do not fit your shell, your wings, Having tasted them talk of it again, the trees, While you’re still always, always, always underground, Drinking sweet gold rumors through the sap, But it’s still months away, the day that you’ll see the sun.

You break through the earth for good to see it, only then—the sun, And you’re dazzled by the glorious cacophony of light, You knew it when the song and flavor ran more swiftly (of the sap) And when the strain of them against your shell grew unbearable (of your wings) You shake its dark and dirt and cold off (of the underground) And claw your way towards the start of the trees.

So tall, so singular, so branchless are the trees, You’d think they’d mimic their meandering below, above; while the sun, Its brightness brings strangeness above, for underground, You never realized there existed so much green light; Cling to your shell, behold the world inverted and stretch your wings, As your blood pulses through your veins like sap.

From fresh-grown pale green twigs you drink the sap,