Sunday, April 20, 2014

Easter Influenza

Who knew fever breaking was like water breaking,
cold sweat, wet bed,
What has happened to me?

Am I born again, resurrected?
The struggle is enough to leave me wasted,
keelhauled, tarred and feathered,

Bleary-eyed. Here am I, born and quaking, open-mouthed
to scream, as if the air is not for breathing.
Savior, bedfellow in sickness,
You harrow, You hallow hell with me.


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