Thursday, April 20, 2023

The Hiccough

It arrived like a letter bomb
A small innocence exploded,
A percussive illness,

Wrapped in more specific sickness,
Almost comical when it started,
But proving relentless.

It would sputter like an outboard,
Chugging without turning over,
Then end in a splutter

Of coughs that wrenched and shook the frame,
Pause only to start over.
It splintered attention,

Made all the other illness worse,
Could not be moderated,
Hiccough, hiccough, hiccough.

The only mercy was to give
Over to it the remaining
Thoughts about it. Hiccough.

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