Tuesday, July 27, 2010

fever

the white of my fat
molds to the lumps
of my bed.

I cannot move.

trapped
in a locked room
shades drawn,

my germs,
my only company:
mocking me
in flight.

2 comments:

Edward Yoo said...

I don't feel well today. G'nite...

Brent Vogelman said...

I hope you feel better.

The last stanza is excellent and I think encapsulates the feeling of being sick in that these microscopic entities have such a drastic effect on us. I trip up over the first line a little, but for being sick this is pretty good. In that regard, don't feel obligated to contribute here if you're not feeling up to it. I definitely understand.