Red Poppy

Who knows what it is
That lets us lift a head
The one on our shoulders, I mean

Sometimes stuck
Looking down
Down at the drain
Down at the tunnel
Down at the unmoving feet
And business of one’s own

The windpipe 
They say
Can get damaged 
That way
With no full inhalation
Cramped in a frame
That does not move

Freeze, some call it
But I don’t
I don’t call it anything
When I’m looking down
There is no voice

The sinew from windpipe 
To belly 
Hardens like braided rope
Bound with duct tape
I don’t dare to unravel

It takes as long as it takes
That phase 
Of silence
Of retreat

Like death
But without existence
And then it happens
That the breeze comes
And you didn’t even know
The door was open
Just a crack

The day that life came back in
And asked you to bend
Towards the sun

To put your warm ear 
Against the red poppy
Sitting up, like you
For whatever comes next.

SJF