CLOSING THE FLU GATES.

My baby coughed on mummy who coughed on me,
Now shivers make
My body ache,
And I cannot get to sleep.

And every time this falls I think divorce,
And feel brittle,
And drip spittle,
And sweat more than a horse.

I’m hot then cold then warm then worse,
Confined to bed,
Dehydrated,
About ready for the hearse.

To rub it in they clear up neatly,
Whilst I toss and turn,
And covers burn,
And smoke signals rise up from me.

I make it through a night, a day, anon,
And by second light
I feel alright,
But at least twelve pounds have gone.

I find I dress in someone else’s clothes,
But my body’s mine,
And my breathing’s fine
As there’s nothing in my nose.

I go down one stair then two then three,
The rest I forget,
Break into sweat,
And every bone in me.

So I’m confined to bed once more,
Though the plaster cast
Has secured, at last,
My body temperature.