It’s a weak dry cough
And a head full of cement
It’s a little bit of phlegm
Every now and then
A throat like a cheese grater
Shaving raw testicles
A body like someone else’s
Old shrivelling slowly dying
Like a slug in an oven
Its red onion eyes
With lemon peel lids
It’s the short sharp tip
Of a breath full of fear
Like inhaling needles
On Everest
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's a pack of blunt words pieced together in a sharp and dramatic way. well done.