M(EYE) KIND OF AIR
by Joanna Gilman Hyde
The Hawk Basement Exercise Room 10:38am
On My C2 Rowing Machine
I breathe with My Mouth
Open
I breathe in The Air
from The Basement Window
Cracked —
I breathe in The Air
of Nova Scotia
& I don’t even care
if The Roof of My Mouth
goes dry
Joanna Gilman Hyde 
you’ve put the word “cracked” in a single line, right in the middle of the poem. is it possible the poem suggests not only that the window is “cracked,” but also the persona?
in very few words you have guided me into this space where i imagine what air from nova scotia feels like in my dry mouth. this is an example of what good poetry can do: invite readers into to a previously unimagined world.
Yes, you’ve read into it all I was intending the reader to wonder about. Thank you very much for the comment.