with the bricks of my out-breaths
I build a shrine in mid-air
for everything that didn't outlive the sun.
There is laughter in my skin.
I only heard it once
my ear drums deflated,
my eyes shriveled.
My tears have expanded in their glands—
the headache of heartbreak has sharpened
an icicle in my brain
for a thousand years.
This heart no longer beats, but moans
a baritone saxophone OM.