Ambient

Easy for me, your
son, youthful lungs trawling in one sweep -

cigar smoke, omelette,
the girl next door.

One day I told you
how in physics we'd calculated a cough holds

billions of atoms Galileo
inhaled. It took a full

week for your retort -
as always off the nail. Must be I've used

it all then – from
Siberia to Antarctica,

slack-pit to spire.
That's why each draw's so bloody hard.

Left me speechless.
Till, catching you

that night at the foot
of your Jacob's Ladder, ascending to the

one bulb of the landing
toilet, I told you how

I'd checked with sir:
You can't use it all, I piped, not in a hundred

million years. You'll get
better. Just wait and see.

Your mouth a slur
suspended over your chest. Fist white

on the rail. Don't hold
your breath, you said.