I flex my fingers.
I’m still here.
I crack the knuckles of feet –
still here
still here
I listen to the birds outside.
They’re still here
and so am I.
I hear the deep gurgling in my belly.
I’m still here.
I scratch an itch on my head.
I’m still here.
I feel my chest rise and fall –
still here
still here
I crunch into an apple.
It is sweet and cold
and lets my know
I’m still here.
I read a few lines
in a book about death,
and I am still here.
I close my eyes
and say these lines softly –
still here
still here
still here
Joshua Seigal
