Sick is Orange

Did you ever notice how crazy
your hair looks when you're sick?

My hair is clearly as twisted as the
congestion in my chest and the
sniffling snot stuffing my
sinuses.

There's a looking out the window
like a hermited Dickinson seeing
the gray world and feeling the
next cough bubbling at the
fringe of your throat.

There's an ache in the fingers
and a thud in the head, a slowness
to the world out the window and a
confusion of it all going on
without you.

Tea, water, coffee, soup, sleep,
sweat, silence for a healing head.
Heat and a slight chill mashed together
under a blanket and a sweater.

There's an orange car outside, car alarm
blaring, like the bells and whistles of
my body. There's a war going on in me
and I hope I win soon.