Poem at Max Volume
to submergence. I am underwater, under
a glass pane of bloom and valiance. Vision
blurs like a shot to the sternum, and soon enough:
an actual shot to the sternum. The room is a limb
that fell asleep under the weight of another
depressive episode. No, the room is a mouth
in the shape of near violence. It opens wide
with the tongue of altitude sickness. Too many times
have I needed to catch my breath without the right tools
to do so. Water can only enter the body in so many ways
before it chokes. And now it’s hard to swallow again, hard
to think straight. The floor is a hyoid bone cracking
under the weight of a crowd at each other’s throats.
My first miracle was years ago: catching heaven
from stage amps stenciled with rows of inverted crosses.
Adam Gianforcaro is the author of the poetry collection Every Living Day (Thirty West Publishing House, 2023). His poems can be found in Poet Lore, Third Coast, Northwest Review, and elsewhere. He lives in Delaware.
© Variant Literature Inc 2023