The Fluey Blues
I am much better now, but here is a miserable little piece I wrote during my feverish period a week or so ago.
My tongue is sprouting sickels
Harpooning in my cheek
Porous pus-filled horror of nose and mouth and guts
Why call them mine
These vacant body-lots now colonized
By busy viral lust
Nothing here familiar
Nothing to belong
Just ice and burn and scar.
Ugh. Perfect rendering of a fluey body. Very evocative. Glad you’re feeling better!
Marina Sofia – Yes, indeed, that is a perfect evocation of what it’s like to be invaded by the flu. I am glad you’re on the mend.
Picturesque, certainly. And accurate. And evocative of every miserable day spent ill with the flu. So glad you’re no longer in the middle of it!
Hugs to you,
Maybe a little too graphic, but it was all I could think of while I was ill… Brain gets reduced to fluff very easily, doesn’t it?
Yuck! Glad you’re feeling better now – but also glad you were able to get this poem out of feeling so grot!
Sorry, I know – a little more information than you needed…
Sounds awful! Glad you’re feeling better.
It’s fun to play the martyr every now and then!
yes, you know you are a poet when you are crafting poetry about the flu you are experiencing. When even the flu inspires you, you know you are a poet!!
We-ell, arguably… rotten poetry (was that pun? Oh, goodness!)