It was a flu bug of panic,
a bad cold of shame,
and mostly I’m over it,
but it comes back again
like a lingering cough,
a fever at night,
and I almost expect it,
but I can’t manage tough
stances and logical self-talk
right when I want to
not each time I want to
even though I know I need to
become immune.
At least more immune.
_____
A Kafka t-shirt to launch NaPoWriMo in which I will post a poem every day until I don’t, either a new poem or a revision.
marniere 