Air Exchange

The cough tore through me,

a sudden rip, deep in the chest.

Then the hollow ache after,

a strange, tender awareness

of the space inside.

That constant push and pull,

the air, thin and cold, going in,

then warm and heavy coming out.

A cycle I ignore, most days,

until a jolt reminds me

that it's all working, just barely.

Two dark sacs, expanding, collapsing,

the flimsy skin of being.

Just there, doing the work,

without a thought from me,

until a shudder.