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Virginia Poet,
Jimmy Warner's

SHOCKOE READER .COM

Internet Poetry Zine, Richmond, VA

lightning edge, lava tube, twisty, writing for the eeny-meeny-aughties

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2015

 


March 2015
 

FEVER BRINGS OUT FIERY BRAIN STORMS



Hellscape

 

You share a bathroom with a lover's obnoxious soap
It smells like the very illness you are fighting, pernicious,
suffocating, cocoanut painting the back of your throat.
You wear your coat indoors, night and day, hot scarf
scratching the meaning of sickness like a crime, neck
wet with a personal scent of dead flowers and salt sea.
You are marooned, life in dry dock, no sound but calm.

The hellscape you found brings out a flight of cave birds.
Insects scream their diver death raids, strafing the skin.
The storm that might refresh you lives only in your brain.
Swollen ears mimic thunder, ring an infernal jungle shrill,
solutions of thousands of days rain and boil back to the
orange hot sky, like rivets and steamy campfire spit.
Night brings fire drops, a rafter thud, and falling stones.

An idea is taking hold that you will write down feverishly,
eyewitness to your own disaster, no smell or texture to
comfort you, pain reiterating your existence, meds an
occasional flutter, floating you up like a surrender flag.
Tho alone you explain all of this like a press conference
of clamoring press agents, their gnashing teeth up close,
Your own breath pushed back in your throat by theirs.

A hand comes out of your coat and pajamas shaking,
taking notes with a dull pencil, no eraser, the stink of
graphite and pencil paint worse than your private sweat,
something relevant as rain in an afternoon tavern where
downpour sets watches, tequila settles nerves, a dose
of quinine, salt  and limes, safari distant though waving
a shimmer of delight, a too hot tent party soon to begin.

 



 


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