WINTER ILLS

Winter and sickness sleep in the same bed

Before night winks awake at me

I rest my lips

Upon a cold cheek

A pallid one

Eyes a blank death
A closed-spaced closeness

One hand laid on my stomach

One upon my head

I never knew to shiver

Tiny tremors to shake

Break them

From their grasp

Gasp and groan

And words will forget to work

Sentences break

Off & out

Of my throat

They tend to eat

All the black that leaks

Sneaks from between

Cracked lips

Of paper skin

With unoccupied hand

They draw it into

Open, drafty gaps

Of space

Spaced on either side

They pretend to be
Death, but they stay

Much longer

Lying cold in my bed