The Detour

The bronchus of air
Filled up with blue dreams,
The air held a breath

It's alveoli were full of itself
But the colour showed
Before the show began

And before it became words
It melted to a sigh
Of spattered impulse

It broke out like cauliflower–
Broad leaves spewing clouds
The making of a mighty vegetable

It bloomed like burning plastic
But before the air could gather itself
The gases teemed in

It waned into habit again,
Before it could be breath, death
and barnacle