Fever

I feel a whine coming on.
I feel the irritating tickle in the back of my mind.
It could last for days.
I feel a whine coming on.

I sense a gripe blooming out.
It is the kind of hacking that disturbs my sleep
accompanied by a feverish delirium.
I sense a gripe blooming out.

There is the itch of a snit in my head.
The disturbing blockage prevents clear thinking.
There is the hesitation of a sneeze.
Oh, yes, the itch of a snit.

There is the choke of a moan rising up.
It starts in my heart and ascends to my attitude.
It is nourished by self pity.
Oh, no, the choke of a moan!

I hear the sound of humor erupting.
A snicker breaks loose, a guffaw pours out.
The fever is vanquished,
alas, by a potion of laughter.
By Gayle Haynes


If you read this first, it might make sense.
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