Tough Situations

by Glen Binger

There is a lack of oxygen
Floating around my neck,
My bones and my lungs.
Cotton balls sop all moisture
From the back of my esophagus.
I feel myself choking on invisibles.
And I can’t figure out how to fix it.

Inside me, lumps of nylon and newspaper and nothing absorbing, marinating in blood cells.

Pulse quickens, using more oxygen.
Depleting from my lungs,
My neck and my bones.
Strands of ocean-blonde hair
Wrapped around my throat
Like a noose, too loose.
And I don’t really want to fix it.