Coughs Between Breaths

The cough shakes me loose from sleep,

like stones rattling down a dry creek.

My chest is gravel pressed too tight,

scratchy, raw, a bruise I can’t soothe.

Tissues pile—wilted and crumpled—

spots darkening like secrets spilled.

Voice gone thin, a cracked whisper,

a slow decay of sound and strength.

This cold drags me under,

a fog of cracked skin and heavy bones,

a slow dissolve into a hollow day.