S…
…ick
sore throat
like strep
a single glass
of water takes wings
and flies out like night birds
spilling little chirps
in the little house
isolated from the others
visions
in fevered half-sleep
the priest breathing
down my neck
and I think of
the american flag
caught in my bike spokes
when someone called the police
now the priest reaching reaching
for my crotch
he only wants to help
sheets wet
someone calling matins
oh, it’s father hugo
little father hugo
he’d never hurt a fly
7 thoughts on "S…"
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begins with a snake hiss and ends with a snake. in between beautiful words, and a lot of hurt. thanks for sharing this one.
a single glass
of water takes wings
and flies out like night birds
spilling little chirps – so nice!
Those fevers really drag odd things from the brain! Happy you got a poem out of it.
A beautifully executed gut punch. Wow.
perfectly captures the psychological effects of being sick—the fever thoughts/feelings are the worst part
i go
we go
you go
hot breath on
wickless candles-
a pile of wings
without a place
to fly.
I am recovering from a not-so-mild bout of Covid (breaking my 4 year-Covid-free streak).
Your poem captures my fever dreams and writing!
Brilliant description:
sore throat
like strep
a single glass
of water takes wings
and flies out like night birds
spilling little chirps
Fevered dreams. No fun.