I sustain a focused expiration; in it nascent flames chuckle. Having thrown mouth and nose over my left shoulder into a deft, smokeless breath, I come back to blowing before the little dance sags wholly. Old lover, soft and bleary in our flannel sheets upstairs, I will warm these rooms for thee. Breath circulates among elements: cold air off the massed saltwater and the rocks; wooden rooms packaging it elegantly; the hot, wet mystery of my lungs; yours, upstairs; the suckling glow of a young fire. Free circuit of breath voids me, I delaminate from the thickness of my morning. Dragon. We are given breathing, a readymade spiritual practice. Stacked stinking popple steams beside the black box, hot now. You descend.

Monster baby

I was in the hospital. It was time to give birth and I was thinking My stomach isn't really very big. The baby just sort of squelched out, no pain, no drama. Immediately nurses took it away. I was lying in bed for a while, I knew my mother was trying to find me but I did not want to talk. I told a nurse I think it's time I saw my baby. She took me down the corridor and out of the hospital onto the street. We walked into the food court of a strip mall and I stood in line behind her at the Pretzel Shack. She held the ticket for my baby. A feeling of deep dread and regret came over me and I thought My life is over. She gave the ticket to a man in an apron behind the counter. He came back with a plastic catering dish with a clear snap-on top. The dish was filled with dinner rolls. The baby squirmed underneath and tried to push the rolls out of the way. I took the top off and long fingers with long nails started snapping together. The baby's face had a tiny hinged jaw lined with sharp teeth. It had a well-developed nose and dark eyes. I was thinking Those Italian features must have come from Christian, my sperm donor. My mother finally ran up. Her hair was dyed black. She stood looking at the baby. We walked and tried to cross the road. I dropped the dish and the baby's face fell off except for the mouth. I picked the dish up and carried it across the road trying to avoid being bitten by the mouth while my mother was pushing the baby parts across the road with her foot, trying to get them out of the way of the oncoming cars. I was thinking I hate my life, this baby is a problem. My dad rolled up in a pimped-out red Ford Festiva with black flower detailing on the sides.

Today I interviewed a housing developer for my documentary. He said that he thinks the primary reason "this town is so dangerous is that many of the criminals displaced by Katrina moved here."