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For Saman Kunan
Gagarin of the watery space
I picture a calmness in the subterranean heavens
in beads of oxygen your breaths shot like stars around your stillness
and for a while your whole life fell around you impatient as stalactite dew.
Nureyev of the musical chamber
I see your desperate pirouette as breaths dance upwards
This is not your legacy, this is not your honourable death so rest friend.
When they recovered your bloated body, they held you like a glass buddha
All the children breathed air made of wood and orient sky fire pulling in night.
They are going to remember you and one of them will sleep for fifteen hours straight