"January flu" - M. Bromberg
Hiding from the world with the January flu
seems the best thing for a week or two.
The holidays are over and the bills come due.
You're in bed with the nose-wipes and the medicine too.
A cup of strong tea with some whiskey in it
will set you straight -- if just for a minute.
Then it's off to dreamland, and there's no limit
to what your clogged noggin has got in it.
What scares you the most is sure to be there
nesting in cranium and the roots of your hair,
or hiding in wait behind some surrealist's stair,
to give you the shivers in chilly night air.
But sooner or later you'll have to surface
to go take a piss or some other purpose.
You can't hide forever, no matter how worthless
the month of mucus or its worst of curses.
Once you've beaten the first-month flu
you'll remember how many things you must do.
Start with some lines for the poetry few,
and hope February doesn't have its own wretched due.