I didn’t think I would be posting a poem today. I woke at 4 a.m. because I turned out the lights to sleep around 7:15 p.m. I’ve been spending much of my time asleep these past three days. When I woke today my temp registered 102.4 in its continual upward climb. For a guy who normally registers 97.8, it was just too high. Couldn’t stay awake, but after another couple hours of sleep, I booked an early appointment at the UNC Urgent Care. In just over an hour I confirmed that I have the flu (A) despite testing negative for it on Thursday morning. Apparently the fever broke because they didn’t even get 100 until I made them do it again: 100.2 degrees Fahrenheit. Forcing myself to eat some toast, I napped yet again, but woke feeling a little more normal. That short period of lucidity produced the poem. Having napped again(!), I now feel I’m slipping downhill, but at least I know there’s nothing for it but to drink ridiculous amounts of water, sleep, and wait it out.
Why is it called
"The Flu"? From where
did it fly? To where
could it be going?
Certainly not far.
Like guests who say,
"I must be leaving,"
only to do anything but,
this unwanted visitor
refuses to leave or
to let us get on with
our lives. Sure, there's
some scientific mumbo-
jumbo about 'influenza'
but if your nickname's
The Flu that's enough
certitude for me. Long
ago I had The Flu.
One night I thought I might
be dying, so scoured by
its fevers. This time I
half wished for that kind
of fever to carry me away,
to wherever it flies. Now
boarding Airline Flu!
88/100
100 poems in 100 days
