The black glove
frozen stiff
pointed at footprints
in the snow
leading to my door.
Prowler! Voyeur!
oh....
my glove
my own steps
as I came home
late last night.
Onset
Drip
Sniffle
..... sneeze ...... sneeze!
drip-drip. BLOW!
scratchy throat
Sniff-sniff
sinus pain. Wince!
SNIFF BLOW!
Where's the slippery elm tea?
Still good after a year?
Oh rats! The half lemon in the fridge
has grown a green fur coat
BLOW! BLOW!
Can't smell the tea
Stir in honey -- sip, slurp, slurpppp
SNIFF BLOW-BLOW
Sinus pain, Aspirin. Bed.
Tomorrow the coughing starts.
Someone mentioned to me yesterday a need for short poems. I dug these up. Profound they're not but timely. Happily I don't have a cold ... yet.
4 comments :
You know that's my kind of poetry
You know that's my kind of poetry
Did this poem bring particular pleasure because it feels right fit? And that matching images and words is appealing to me also? I think so...thanks, naomi?
Thanks, Naomi, I'm glad the poem feels right to you -- some poems (usually short ones) just flow onto the page. I tinkered a wee bit with each but very little. They feel right to me too.
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