Another Ordinary Morning:

the air, 
as always, 
riddled with holes 

emitting—
what?—

why, more air, of course, 
specifically, 
replenishment air, 

every molecule tingling 
to infiltrate yesterday’s 
oh-so-weary atmosphere.

Is it recirculation?

No! It is freshness,

freshness seeping 
soundlessly into this world

which, though replete 
with all that old air

and teeming-pulsing-crowded-pocked 

with all those  
invisibly proliferating 
holes,

never declines
or even hesitates
to take it in.

Claire Bateman | Mudlark No. 44 (2011)
Contents | The Law of Falling