Pains below the sternum
Radiating right and left,
Gripping muscles as i turn,
Even at the back and
Deep inside too, ouch, ouch.

Going for an ultrasound test,
Let's see what's going on,
I'm ageing, the body can't
Take life's blows like it used
To. Is this worthy of poetry?

No. It isn't. It's a patient's
Symptoms best, silly whine
At worst. Even if the u/s says
Something horrible. i have no
Right to drag poetry into my

Thorax. And do a poor job
In poetry & medical self-analysis.
Whine, whine, whine,
Time goes in whining, i can't
Stop myself from spilling over

Into the little good that i got
Going. Close your eyes, grit
Your teeth, write poetry later,
Or now, steeling your inner
Agonies, organs aren't poetry.

© Sanjib Basu