My lungs are ancient lakes
I breathe deeply,
agitate the silt at the bottom,
exhale cloudy sunbeams
and fish scales and
rotted leaves.
In ancient lakes
the water is warmer.
Ancient lakes outlive their
glaciers, outlive their
storm clouds,
outlive most of us.
I will not
outlive most of us.
Heavy in my chest
are logs and stones
hundreds of years older than me.
They are unmovable.
Maybe they are why
I am unmovable.
I have been here
a long time.
All that time floats
inside of me
preserved
in frigid water.
There is so much
ancient in me
I can’t touch.
When I inhale
only the surface ripples.
Header photo by Tony Cordaro, courtesy Pixabay.