Tuesday, October 15, 2024

poem

 Catching Cold

It’s sleeting outside but 

I slant through the slashing

Slivers of ice unscathed 


An old woman is waiting inside 

Saying you’ll catch the death of you

As she hands me a heavy blanket


Which renews a lapsed hope.

Till then I’d assumed

That death was already here


Lying fallow in a nerve root

Like a dormant virus

Patiently waiting to reappear


As a painful red rash

Lashed across my back 

When I’m old and frail.


So took it as a challenge

And made a game of it

Because games can be won.


I dropped the blanket and dashed outside

Where the sleet had turned to snow

And I raced the flakes into the ground


10/15/24

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