Lungs
Crumbled shell around
swollen balloons,
a bone cocoon encases
like a tomb.
Shell protects but ribs
break,
collapsed lung, no
longer speaking
in its mother tongue,
breathy whispers,
exhale, Mother Nature’s
blowy gales.
An open mouth, a nada,
nothing,
bloody slug drags
itself across
the lower lip, curving
downwards
like a backwards wave
releasing drips
in its concave, sound
encumbered –
slow rumbling muffled
thunder.