Head Cold

My head

A dandelion of lead

One blow into a tissue

And it explodes

Into a cloud

Of neon fireflies

My eyes

Blink and blur

Burning blinds


Against the light

My nose

Is not my own

Swollen and running

A tap from my brain

Words and thoughts escaping

Will I ever think again?

My throat

Ragged and rasping

Claws clasping

In scratchy croakiness

Muscles moan

Bones groan

In answer to the comforting call

Of my bed

© Kim M. Russell, 2016

head cold

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