Yellow School Bus

A charcoal blanket covers us but
Dim shadows can be traced,
Moving lethargically as artificial
Heat permeates the air.

I lie curled up, like a rodent hiding
From his predator. My enemy lurks
Dancing through the darkness
Invisible to me, but I can feel it

Sitting on my chest, sucking out my breath
Like a vacuum cleaner—I can almost hear the
Angry cries of the slave beaten machine
Searching in vain for any fragment of me left.

My head rests on your shoulder, you
Hold me and I can smell your hair
Light and sweet, unique to your body
I am wrapped in an afghan of compassion,
Knowing nothing can hurt me
When I’m in your strong arms.

You reach up and open the window
Letting in painfully cold air amidst protests and
Anger, because you know I can’t breathe with
The bearing down pressure of an anvil, an anchor,
A lifetime in my chest
Holding my breath where it can’t move.

Eyes close and hearts beat, synchronized
Like clockwork. Feeling pain together, searching
For answers together, letting go of
Consciousness together

Puzzle pieces that complement each other
Together as it’s clear they should be
Warm bodies lie intertwined on a cramped vinyl cushion
Surviving in the moment.