There is a steady number of people discovering in the later stage of their life that contact with asbestos at an earlier date can be long lasting.
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A starved cur huddles in his lungs,
motionless, but coiled in tension,
awaiting some insignificant sign
of weakness, the encouragement.
Sometimes in the long nights
he has to roll to give it room,
its closeness binds their breathing
to light-headed shallowness,
fearful searches in the darkness
for the slightest sound of wheezing,
a small but dreadful change
that warns the dog is loose.
Its frayed tether are those old fibres
that stitch age to youth’s ignorance
unaware that some careless tasks,
could give the hound a patient home.
