Poem 4/22/11


Breathe
(a mildly twisted villanelle)

It's no secret my lungs aren't right. Asthma
plagues me, allergies coat the insides of my
lungs and inflame them and it hurts to breathe.

Something so simple. So intense and immediate,
and yet, here I am still, breathing and breathing,
but making no secret that my lungs aren't right, asthma

always has the better of me, even when I try
to stay on top. Benedryl is my bestest friend
when my lungs are inflamed and it hurts to breathe.

Sometimes I just have to sit and wait it out.
I have learned patience. I have earned confidence.
I make no secret that my lungs aren't right, it's asthma

that hides all the cards from me, that tries to convince me
I can give up and break and no one will ever catch me
lungs inflamed and hurting to breathe

and when will it ever end, I wonder. I am no doctor
and the ones I have seen, I do not trust, they know
the secret, that my lungs aren't right, that asthma breaks
open my lungs, inflames them and how it hurts to breathe.