Kidnapped from my busy life
I find myself prisoner on a run-down ship
adrift in a cold sea of crumpled tissues
rocked by squalls of wet sneezes
wracked by shuddering coughs.
The skin around my nose has worn thin
and crackles with a glaze of dried salt.
I cower in my berth,
baffled by a turgid industrial dispute
which has put all services on go slow.
Every time try to I speak up,
demanding some normality,
my voice sounds strange in a new way.
Peering through the bleary porthole
I scan the horizon for some sign
of healthy life, preparing for escape
by emptying a raft of little bottles
down my swollen throat.