The Big Crash

Marena Benoit

Baby, remember when we hiked 

to the top of that mountain? 

Your hair was all dirty and flopping around. 

Your jacket slung around your neck, 

laughing at the sunset. 

That was the first time I looked at you. 

and thought, goddamn, that is a beautiful woman. 

Then it was us in your apartment, 

filled with mismatched mugs, physics books, halfway knitted socks. 

After watching that stupid movie, you wanted to turn on some jazz.  

You needed to get up and “get some blood flowing, have a little fun” you said. 

One hand in your hair and one on your waist as we danced. 

Your eyes shone as you brought me in for a kiss.   

Kissing you is wearing my veins as a blanket. 

Get some blood flowing.  

Turn me inside out, make me whole. 

Touching your body is a defibrillator. 

I will survive being inside out.  

Then, I had my hands placed in the exact same way, 

but we were not dancing. We were waiting 

for the nurse to come in. 

She did not deserve to see the contours  

of your skin through your gown. 

I watched the nurse wrap the blood  

pressure cuff around your arm. 

She squeezed harder. 

I felt as though you moved your fingers to rearrange my chest. 

picked my capillaries aside one by one, 

wrapped your hands around my heart, 

and squeezed harder. 

But then, she let go. 

Why won’t you let go? 

I will use these careful hands to reach inside your own organs 

to mold every dent in your collapsed lungs. 

Fill them out again. 

I won’t leave this room until you breathe again 

                                                          breathe again