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Zone 3 Literary Journal Spring 2023, Volume 38, Issue 1
Volume 38, Issue 1
Spring 2023

Breath-Hold Breakpoint

In the palms of orange poppies
the fat bodies of bumblebees are in ecstasy.

I dig in dirt. I water roses
bright as brake lights.

This is all the joy
our world has left.

*

Beyond this lushness,
there are millions of screens

and on each screen the same sadness,
the same man, dying.

The breath-hold break point
is the point in which

a person
can no longer hold their breath.

If you watched the video
did you hold your breath?

When the video stopped
did you finally gasp?

*

“What god was it drove you
to rake black night

across your eyes,”
the choragus asks.

No god. No kings. Only people.
Stop, please, my eyes.

There is
too much to witness at once.

*

We heard the most beautiful line
when we watched the film

“The Farewell.”
A man says “it’s our duty to carry this

emotional burden” for their mother
who doesn’t know she has cancer.

Grief, let us uplift what we can
because what we carry

defines us—a nation
with its crimes, a family with its secret, a man

suppressed by a knee
whose breath is held as he asks

for more, the officer who,
upon hearing the request,

holds the man’s
breath

for him
past all breaking points.

About Michael Schmeltzer

Michael Schmeltzer is a biracial author originally from Japan. He currently lives in Seattle where he serves as Editor-in-Chief of Floating Bridge Press. His latest poetry book, Empire of Surrender, is the winner of the 2021 Wandering Aengus Book Award. Along with Meghan McClure, he is the co-author of the nonfiction book A Single Throat Opens, a lyric exploration of addiction and family. His debut full-length Blood Song was a finalist for the Washington State Book Award in Poetry, the Julie Suk Award, and the Coil Book Award. Along with Kate Hanson Foster, he co-hosts the literary show and podcast Table For Deuce.

Zone 3 Literary Journal Spring 2023, Volume 38, Issue 1
Zone 3 Press, the literary magazine of Austin Peay State University
Volume 38, Issue 1
Spring 2023

Breath-Hold Breakpoint

In the palms of orange poppies
the fat bodies of bumblebees are in ecstasy.

I dig in dirt. I water roses
bright as brake lights.

This is all the joy
our world has left.

*

Beyond this lushness,
there are millions of screens

and on each screen the same sadness,
the same man, dying.

The breath-hold break point
is the point in which

a person
can no longer hold their breath.

If you watched the video
did you hold your breath?

When the video stopped
did you finally gasp?

*

“What god was it drove you
to rake black night

across your eyes,”
the choragus asks.

No god. No kings. Only people.
Stop, please, my eyes.

There is
too much to witness at once.

*

We heard the most beautiful line
when we watched the film

“The Farewell.”
A man says “it’s our duty to carry this

emotional burden” for their mother
who doesn’t know she has cancer.

Grief, let us uplift what we can
because what we carry

defines us—a nation
with its crimes, a family with its secret, a man

suppressed by a knee
whose breath is held as he asks

for more, the officer who,
upon hearing the request,

holds the man’s
breath

for him
past all breaking points.

Volume 38, Issue 1
Spring 2023

Breath-Hold Breakpoint

In the palms of orange poppies
the fat bodies of bumblebees are in ecstasy.

I dig in dirt. I water roses
bright as brake lights.

This is all the joy
our world has left.

*

Beyond this lushness,
there are millions of screens

and on each screen the same sadness,
the same man, dying.

The breath-hold break point
is the point in which

a person
can no longer hold their breath.

If you watched the video
did you hold your breath?

When the video stopped
did you finally gasp?

*

“What god was it drove you
to rake black night

across your eyes,”
the choragus asks.

No god. No kings. Only people.
Stop, please, my eyes.

There is
too much to witness at once.

*

We heard the most beautiful line
when we watched the film

“The Farewell.”
A man says “it’s our duty to carry this

emotional burden” for their mother
who doesn’t know she has cancer.

Grief, let us uplift what we can
because what we carry

defines us—a nation
with its crimes, a family with its secret, a man

suppressed by a knee
whose breath is held as he asks

for more, the officer who,
upon hearing the request,

holds the man’s
breath

for him
past all breaking points.

About Michael Schmeltzer

Michael Schmeltzer is a biracial author originally from Japan. He currently lives in Seattle where he serves as Editor-in-Chief of Floating Bridge Press. His latest poetry book, Empire of Surrender, is the winner of the 2021 Wandering Aengus Book Award. Along with Meghan McClure, he is the co-author of the nonfiction book A Single Throat Opens, a lyric exploration of addiction and family. His debut full-length Blood Song was a finalist for the Washington State Book Award in Poetry, the Julie Suk Award, and the Coil Book Award. Along with Kate Hanson Foster, he co-hosts the literary show and podcast Table For Deuce.