The air is slightly chill
unmoving.
In my struggles I can taste
the near distant sea.
It salts my flapping lungs.
All asthmatics share
this conceit-
that you can drown in air
like beached fish
or garrotted dugongs,
that your face will turn blue
as a prelude to being
the pretty unpleasant
contorting end of you.
It's no joke
constantly struggling
to never choke on cod bones,
to keep a grip on a life
that can easily slip
into a wild death spiral
when stress bites
or guests light up bonfires
in their selfish blank faces.
No smoking. Wear
your Covid mask. Swear
to take great care.
No. We don't share
the same suffering body.
Each to their odd singularity.
Asthmatics need to be spared
foul air and foul intentions.
I would give them bungalows
by the sea, the remedy
of no fluff, no tame cats.
No TV. Nothing 'godly'.
I would slow their life
to slow their death.
Better air is always best
married to peace
supported by an inhaled relief.
Great article