Air Is Not Our Friend

It waits for us,
feeding on our trust,
waiting for that moment’s
Inattention. There is a blank
space between expiration and
inspiration that is our moment of vulnerability.

We wrap it round us, embrace it
As it waits for the hairline crack
in our processing, the flaw in our design. The flaw
in every design since primordial fishfrogs
sprawled out of the sea,
gasping for breath through the holes they used for eating.

The air around us feels,
feels so benign, waiting to trap us into
indiscretions, waiting for the inadvertent
gasp that will end
with coughing our lungs up.

The air is the Adversary’s message to remind us
That God the Creator does not exist.
No-one intelligent would have designed us
With such a major design fault missed.