Andrea Travis Poet Villanelle

The Wind I Taste

Cool, crisp wind across my face
Brings the pollen to my lung
It festers there, all I taste

Choking on the bitter mace
My last bell might be rung
Cool, crisp wind across my face

Dressed in gown of yellow lace
These old songs to be sung
It festers there, all I taste

Day and night my gait doth pace
Out the window all reason flung
Cool, crisp wind across my face

Breathing subdued inside this case
The pollen swells my tongue
It festers there, all I taste

Slow infection, losing the race
Memories pile up like dung
Cool, crisp wind across my face
It festers there, all I taste.

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