Still Breathing

I am crushed bones.

A flower stepped on by a brown leather business shoe, in a cold black gutter.

Above my lying still body, the moon is almost full.

Its light is masked by the glow of a street lamp.

My eyes, like petals, stare up into a well-lit sky.

Above, an airplane.

Passengers looking out round windows,

to see a landscape of light.

Car wheels pass.

And I am still breathing.