these words come through an addled head
whose attention is fractured by coughs and snuffs and muscle cramps

there’s relief on the horizon
for it was worse yesterday and worse yet the day before and much worse before that

but the illness bids me write
telling me there is something important i cannot say when well

telling me “in vino veritas” (in wine there is truth)
may take a back seat to “in malum veritas” (substitute ‘illness’)

telling me to tell you that illness is not all microorganistic in nature
that the body’s ills are more easily conquerable than the spirit’s

and that there is an epidemic
symptoms: hatred, blame, impulse to destruct, ungenerosity

and that each spirit must find its own cure
and in doing so will encounter a new symptom: despair

****
****

well, i’m going back to bed, for bedrest has been helpful
and i am going to love you all, unjudgmentally