This week’s poem must speak for itself, as I cannot.
Flu
.
Nasty flu,
hammers in my head.
She scratches at my throat
and throbs in my ears.
Dizzying my thoughts with
threats of ills to come.
.
Settles painlessly in my larynx.
Voice box filled with unfamiliar speechlessness.
A reminder perhaps
of too many oral barbs.
.
Laryngitis;
a prompt to speak kinder.
.
.
.
oh dear Rilla, I fully sympathise (though I wish mine had settled ‘painlessly’ in my larynx…it was more like a hardware store full of sharp knives hacking in my throat). yesterday (day 4 of the flu and the worst) I called in the Chinese masseuse who kneaded and tweaked and made me yell in pain, but I am convinced she ‘dislodged’ everything, and at last I am feeling almost like a human again this morning. Want her number?
Sounds good, so yes, I’d love her number, and sorry for your sufferings!