I
I am suffocating.
The stairwell is heated
by dozens of bodies,
climbing up,
like salmon,
searching for the light.
I emerge from the underworld,
sucking stale air
into my lungs.
Beads of salt water scatter
and evaporate,
while others form rivulets
from hairline to chin.
I have traveled miles
to be among my people.
I scan the streets
to find my place
in the taxonomy:
Kingdom.
Phylum.
Class.
Order.
Family.
But there is only nothingness and chaos.
I walk many miles before I surrender.
I have strayed.
II
My limbs ache
as I climb slowly uphill.
It is only another quarter-mile,
or perhaps a half,
to the patch of grass
where an old dog waits
beside the porch steps.
Her limbs ache from sitting still.
She barks once.
It is a greeting,
I think,
or a warning to the pack.
I have arrived.
I lean against the old dog,
listening to the beating of her heart
and the rustling of leaves,
until sleep overtakes me.
I dream the stars are angels
creating order in the universe.
I hear them singing:
Kingdom.
Phylum.
Class.
Order.
Family.
I have returned.
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