I'm suffering of a clogged nose, a raspy throat and a hacking cough. And an undue amount of worrying over everything I should have done and should be doing. So here I am, sneezing, coughing and blowing my nose all at the same time, and reading poetry.
Here's one by Laura Kasischke, called Love Poem.
The water glass. The rain. The scale
waiting for the weight. The car.
The key. The rag. The dust. Once
I was a much younger woman
in a hallway, and I saw you:
I said to myself
Here he comes.
My future's husband.
And even before that. I was the pink
throbbing of the swim bladder
inside a fish in the River Styx. I was
the needle's eye. I was the air
around the wing of a fly, and you
had no idea you were even alive.