Those days when you leave the radio
off – the buzz of the refrigerator is loud
enough – you sit in the deep black chair, listen
to your teeth dissolve from the cough
drop’s sickening syrup,
your stomach fill with sour liquid.
Still, it’s a day off, and it’s only
a cold. You will rise again and think nothing
of going off to work. Happily
you sound like an old smoking blues man,
rendering your illness believable,
that and the other graphic noises, g-force
sneezes raining into your lap. You clear
your schedule.

Climb under the comforter
with that book, you know you want to –
it’s been on the exhausted night table
for weeks. Later, get up, shower off
the stink, slog to the store, schlep
home ginger tea and noodle soup,
special provisions of the sick. Peruse
the cough drops – so many flavors!
Buy tissues for the art on the box.
Stop at the library for your limit of movies.
Get some flowers too. Your mother
would get them for you if she wasn’t far away.