Held
It stings and it bites around my ribs pulling outwards my flesh. Widening my chest he grabs at my heart holding it still. He warms his hands with it. It hurts with great pleasure. The music stops. I am aware I am not breathing. Hanging, held in a moment in a sling, he holds me tight as all passes by me and around me at such a speed it seems, as if it were still. I question whether there are wheels on the bottom of this window. 100 cows, 1,000 fields, 6 churches go past. Hay barrels, hedges and trees come in and out of focus. I reach for the water I see down below, the soft drops of water that sit on the stones, I scratch my hand as it bristles down through the brambles. I ache for my reach to find touch…In the abrasion I notice a change in the current. I stop. I search for a smell and recall breathing. It is warm around my face, a heat plays close upon my lips and around my neck but still, there is no breathing, nor is there blood and neither even a graze to my hand. All surfaces I realize, are lost, vanishing over and over drifting by as though they were never there at all. What if I move now, will it make a difference?