Ears Pop

 

My ears pop four days a week, 

at least twice a day

On an elevator, 

not an Airbus, 

but I think of you anyway 

I think of height, flight, soaring and sobbing as the din of a pressurized cabin fills my ears

And they pop in a little box 

in a high-rise downtown

~~~

My spine cracks as many times as I can make it, 

at least in the morning and night

On my bed, 

not ours, 

but despite my best efforts to my thoughts you alight

I think of the woman you were, the man I was, the burdens I carried silently on my back

And it cracks in a garden apartment, 

250 miles away from you

~~~

My feet ache as I walk home from the station, 

at least near the end of the journey

On the sidewalk, 

not your couch, 

but an overwhelming feeling fills me

I think of your firm but gentle caress, your casual caring as you massage my feet

They ache on a street, 

only twenty minutes’ walk from your home

~~~

My lungs fill with air,

at least until the breath catches on a sob

In my desk chair,

not your living room,

but I remember the last time I cried to my mom

I think of how I called her because I couldn’t call you, and I cried til I emptied my lungs

They fill again, 

a year after you kept me from dying

{A poem by Leona Maria}