Monday, October 16, 2006

Emphysema.

remember when your feet
were heather sprung,
but now leather lungs
leave you trout-mouthed,
gasping on the bank,
drawing in nothing -
hoping some higher power
would remould those sickened sacks -
longing to feel the air rush back
into those now forbidden places,
the choked, dry spaces,
airtight and bloodless

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