"Flu Season"


Everyone's catching what I had
As I get better they start 
falling into bed
With my old fever, 
And there's too much heat
That chokes the air, 
And it's my fault,
To bring it here. 


As I come back from my
Respite, the tests have all
Lined up in rows
All point at me
With bayonets 
And plotting, each, my o'erthrow.



And there's a thick 
Unyielding gloom that falls
Upon my head at turns, and
I grow faint and mourn the
me that's dead
That was all sewn with hope
And bred
With all the parts of me
Worth it. 


And here I wait, and look for ways
To pass the time.

For somewhere else the me resides
Who is the best at all her days
And while I'm stuck amid the sick
Forgetting how to write or rhyme,
That me is making something great,
And when she's done
She'll come right back,
And I will seen all she has seen
And I will taste her half of fate
And I will be begun.