Missed Meanings Poem by Diane Shishido

It’s okay,
We can breathe separately today.

Yesterday’s breath turned into a roar, starting
Someplace underneath the fascia that
Connects you to me.

It began as a low rumble, something that
Escaped our notice.
It inched it’s way
Up and over,
Lifting us up
Off of the ground
In its long fingers
Of missed meanings.

Pushing us up towards the ceiling,
It held us there,
Pinned.

Before the exhale came,
- And we fell.