It Comes in Gusts by Natalie Vaughan

I know when it is coming and that there is nothing to be done.
I know I feel the straining of a rope at its tethers,
a cord at its pulley, a line taut in my chest,
and I tell you that
I am holding on by only strings.
I know that my head is filled with helium,
that I cannot find my words through the fog.
I know that my mouth is moving and that
only bubbles emerge, popping empty at
the threshold of my lips,
and you think I have nothing to say.
And I know that you will put
your hands on my shoulders
as if you could force me back to earth,
and I know that the weight of your hands is
crushing me
flattening me
but before I can pop
the strings begin to snap
they split
by one
by one
I know that
the rope has
finally given way
and that I am
upwards in a gale of
leaving my breath
and my sense
and you
all on the ground
beneath me
I know
I am grasping
at twigs in the
kicking and
And I know
that I do
not know
how to pull
back down.