Eyes, Ears, Nose, Throat; Murder, She Wrote

Every time I sneeze
Within and beyond
My morning allergies,
I feel like I am losing
A little piece of me.

Every time I cough
And irritate my palate
Irascibly rough,
I wonder when it’s going
To be enough.

Every time my sinuses
Swell up and clog
My passages,
Only time can soothe
The intractable ravages.

For pain is pain
And itch is itch –
Sharp or dull or faint – as such,
When all weapons fail,
The touch
Of familiarity
Becomes the de facto
Crutch.

– Akanksha Gupta

Onset of Illness

I can breathe,
But with each breath
Unease
Sweeps through

Guts twist and churn,
Conscious thrums the chest
Off beat
At every turn

When empty,
Hunger gnaws
With claws
That painfully feed

When bloated,
Even the rot of despair
Clots
To never weep

And when breathless,
Though gusts of air
Flail piteously

I can still breathe

I can always breathe

But the still in the air
Waylays the mind
Distills the spirits
Consumes the soul

Dreary dispassion
Threatens
To possess
The body whole

Eventually, it weaves
A frighteningly hypnotic trance
That grips the unwitting senses
In its maddeningly deathless dance

– Akanksha Gupta