I'm bitten moons-raw crescents,
no edge left to peel away-
one day a breath sealed, preserved-
a body whispering thank you.
Taking in the cosmos, breathless,
hard as acrylic polish, biting
through the trace of formaldehyde,
swallowing silence, swallowing air.
Say I can't get enough-
that my burning throat will yet blossom,
that I'm still breathing toward voice,
swallowing possibility before it swallows me.
Swallowing Air by Dzvinia Orlowsky | Pink Peony Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
$20.00Price
Dzvinia Orlowsky is an award-winning author of seven poetry collections (Carnegie Mellon University Press) including Bad Harvest (Massachusetts Book Awards “Must Read” in Poetry) and Those Absences Now Closest (Brilliant Books’ Most Brilliant Books, 2024). Co-recipient of two NEA translation fellowships, her co-translations with Ali Kinsella from the Ukrainian have been finalists for the 2022 Griffin International Poetry Prize and a 2025 PEN America Literary Award. Visit her at www.dzviniaorlowsky.com
