i envy a certain drift of air-
a specific draft of wind that has
blown many times under my nose-
and over my face-
i long for it as if it were the cure
for me-
i desire it as though it were the beginning
of me-
an invigorating scent-
full of everything that i’ve never had-
a full breath-
full of everything that i’ve ever lost-
i envy that drift of air-
and i covet it as though it were the last
thing on earth that could make
seeds blossom-
as though it were the end of all endings*