Poetry Vs. the Flu
My head is stuffed, my brain is fried
and still the poems wait inside,
They leak out of my eyes and ears
and laugh at me with grumpy jeers.
I am a wreck, I feel so sick
and still the poems leak and stick.
They glue me to the creaky chair
until I write them in the air
and freeze them down, forever be,
persistent friends, my poetry...
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