The flu seems
poetic now,
like a love poem
I didn’t know
I had in me.
I, slightly delirious,
you, febrile.
Both of us running hot and cold
in an entanglement of wet and twisted sheets,
wracked with the familiar lovers’ regrets
about insufficient hand washing.
Lovely, languid and slightly febrile. I really enjoyed this. And I hope you are feeling better?
ReplyDeleteThank you, Lisa! Yes, am better - I thought I was immune having had what I was told was a flu 2 months ago. It's so nice to be back :)
ReplyDeleteThe title alone is superb!
ReplyDeleteTa, Robbie! An ardent flu...:)
DeleteLol
ReplyDeleteLol
ReplyDeleteI've missed you and your poems and am sure others have too. Hope the flu is totally gone. Everything is a poem!
ReplyDeleteOh, thank you, Susan! You made me laugh.
DeleteI'm so found of love poems, I'm craving for love poems! thanks!!
ReplyDeleteOh Beatrice! Thanks. Secretly, so do I! I get my fix with your poems;
ReplyDeleteIt was worth getting the flu to have been given the gift of this poem Efi :-)
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Gail! I shall miss your beautiful, intelligent writing here. Selfishly, I'd like to wake up to your poems, and their gentle humour, but I'm going to keep an eye out for you in any case, now that I know you. Thank you.
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