Amy Cuneo

Times (like these)

There are times (like these)
I use songs to breathe
where my knees
would leave
would leave
would leave me

The ward dim-lit
a baby cries- I don't know which
mine's unknown to me

He lives here and I'm a visitor
covid checked inspected

And every morning the question
spills out my body
out of my eyes out of my
hollow womb

In times like these I use songs to


When my knees would leave

but remain beneath me