All night

you breathe 

my hyphae.
 



Your white blood cells seek,

then eat me; snip, stop

my stitch-up. 

You won’t face months

of coughing up buttons, dark

mucous plugs.

No x-rays for balls of my silks.

No drugs trying to heal where I left

all my needles.


Caroline Hawkridge, 

Writer-in-Residence, National Aspergillosis Centre.