There is a catch to it, snagging where the ribs meet, stealing the voice when I speak, unthinking. There is a reminder.
Air is liquid upon waking.
A moment after nightmares, waterlogged, before I remember to swim. The rhythm of in and exhalation must be forced steady. It must remind confused valves that blood pumps faster when we run and should not trip or forget so. Eating, sleeping, breathing, beating, in borrowed skin are often forgotten. This body decides when it will bleed, fall, scar, shake.