In Fever

spinnerBy degrees, words slip into my mind

and spin into lines that make sense

in this fevered moment, but will later

read as the impassioned words of another –

madman, prophet, troubled soul, friend, lover, murderer.


Fever 101

A fever like an introductory college course.

Preparation for the certainly worse to come.

My doctor disturbingly unconcerned about this number.

Pills melt to nothing, like ice cubes

in a glass and my blistering brain.



(This poem’s title might suggest a connection to Plath’s “Fever 103” – but I don’t see one.)