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.