Flu
Three
cups of ginger ale – I remain ill.
I want fresh air but feel I would collapse
Before I reached the far-off bedroom door.
Weak arms and legs make hills from my covers.
I cannot read, can only sit, sip, munch
On crackers, toast, and rice, slurp applesauce.
Oliver Twist is read into my ear –
I’ve had enough of my own suffering.
I want fresh air but feel I would collapse
Before I reached the far-off bedroom door.
Weak arms and legs make hills from my covers.
I cannot read, can only sit, sip, munch
On crackers, toast, and rice, slurp applesauce.
Oliver Twist is read into my ear –
I’ve had enough of my own suffering.
Out my window, college life continues
On the grounds of my new independence.
Backpacked figures tromp in whirligig snow,
Chasing down success, their own affliction,
Caused me to know confinement, chicken soup.
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