Kerri Shying R # 76 Sick Poems

Sick poems

You see this wastrel takes my time

sucking down an hour

as if it was the remnant

of an ice cream on a stick

the hottest part of summer

too

this disease gets me sleep

sounds ideal

plumped up on cushions

adrift adjacent to a life

once known

as mine

summon like a demon tithed by hell

the power to arise

get supper take a wee

words

fly through me

atoms

removed by this stealthy foe

from decisive action

now joining and recoupling

copulating in the 7^th circle

of poetry

all day and through the night

in the middle of the cushionland

fly the words

machete-ing  cell membranes I am

snoozing

sipping

with one arm - a butterfly net

bringing down a phrase

for good