Air Hunger

It is an ironic pain
to burn from the inside out,
wholly immersed in water.

Sinuses burn, and your throat.
Even the roof of your mouth burns
in this agonal craving.

Your heart and lungs burn hottest of all.
Not from ravenous flames—swift
and merciful in their work, but searing from
orange-hot coals, lazy embers—
scorching, radiating, starving;
dispensing death a few
white ashes at a time.

Published at Wordlust : Paperfetish, 7-1-2005