Wednesday, October 27, 2010

The Cold

I am not ensconced in a sheath of
soft red velvet
but in a slow-moving, thick
white mucus
that makes everything turn into
irrelevant dollops
of time pressing onto vast fields
of nothingness
until this ear thump, throat scratch,
jelly swallow
subsides and I can once again use
language as
a person who is moving forward
with life.

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