Mishkat Bhattacharya: Every Breath That You Take

Some folks leave me curious, most of all those
Who produce fluting notes in the night from their nose.
Why can’t they just use their mouths when they whistle
And avoid causing sounds that make listeners bristle?

Overwhelmingly loud, individual snores
Are like venting volcanoes' great rumbling roars,
Or blasts from a foghorn that banishes sleep
And renders quite useless the counting of sheep.

Pray, how can the authors of such lethal din
Remain unaware of the state that they’re in,
Slumber calmly for hours, undisturbed, snug in bed,
While riling the living and waking the dead?

Is there truly no remedy fit to be used?
No balm for restoring the peace when abused?
No potion to help us withstand or endure −
Is a large heavy pillow the only real cure?