nothing I've ever seen
before.
In my breast,
in singular motion
it is free.
From my part
of the wind.
It came from
that deepest part
of my stomach
out or in or
the necessity of
either
were not important
to the moment,
or me.
I felt it rise
to those warm
parts
in my throat,
wet warm
inside my cheeks,
blowing them
up wide like
circus pants.
It pressed on the
inside of my
stomach, my
breast bone
and tickled me
within
with tiny fingers
making me arch
my back.
Warm on my lips,
its feathery presence
settling briefly
on that smooth
part
below
my nose, tracing rings
there.
It came from way in
and was
shudderingly
grateful.