My nose, a dripping tap

Throat embalmed with phlegm

Head hot sticky like a child’s fingers jabbing my brain

Body encased in a sea of blankets

Distant radio buzz

Weight drowning and anchoring me

Diving deeper into my humid cave

Eyelids falling shut

My parents — both together then — piled together on the couch,

Mum, brushing away my scattered pens,

Petting my hair and checking my temperature again,

Dad spooning me banana medicine, hands leathery against my forehead.

My body whines but I have Dr. Teddy and I didn’t have to see Mr. Jeffrey today.

I open my eyes and it’s snowing again,

Just like that first winter,

And for a moment

My vision clears,

Brain no longer having to strain,

And my train of thought has finally steered onto the right lane.

I turn off the radio and allow myself to sleep,

Devoid of need for leaping sheep

And I feel my parent’s warmth once more.


Like Concrete on Facebook to stay up to date