It’s night again of course
and the air in here is still not breathable
not because of the air
but because my throat closes when I sleep
it’s gotten worse lately
so I panic all night instead of sleeping
and I’m going to write about something Big
to pass the terror time and free my mind

there’s no poetry in choking

I guess I’ll write another poem about race
and gender and the damned state of all things
I’d rather blame my panic on that
than on my diseased throat

I can’t solve that mess
so it’s safe to complain about it

A simple trip to the doctor
might save my life
but I afraid I can’t afford such things these days
without giving up something else vital

I’d rather be seen after my death
as a martyr to the big causes
than be known for dying because
I didn’t know how to breathe

(It’ll look better in the obit anyway)

I’m genuinely frightened
of only two things
That I’ll choke in my sleep
and die
and

that I’ll never know how anyone else does it —
gets through
survives
thrives even —
while choking on bile
and hating everyone
I feel if I knew that
I could die OK
if not happy
It might help

That said
here’s yet another chance to write
the last poem I’ll ever write
but I can’t think of anything I haven’t already said
about how it feels
to grow up not white in the home
and nothing but white outside
swinging a knife because daddy taught me how
and hating the tickle in the groin it gave me

Ah, who’s gonna read this anyway
I’ve choked this chicken so often before

Shit
I hate how the races and genders and all that
play us
Being anything is a drag
after all
There ought to be something to say about it
that I haven’t said
Something to stop it if I can write it
Something I can write instead of going to sleep
where I’m bound to drown on my tongue
one of these nights

I’m so scared of choking
that I’ve stopped caring
about anything else
But I haven’t stopped smoking
haven’t lost weight
or exercised recently
all of which might save me
Too busy writing poems
about dying and choking
and the race and the gender thing
and certainly about God and suchlike
and the social order
and the closing throats
and the wind
and the recognition
that we all die
from choking these days

so who exactly
is any different