Nightmare Patient

feverish, my head thick;

lesser-known symptoms

like gushing nosebleeds and diarrhea

are my gross covid crosses to bear.

things are looking grim.

no tissues or napkins

low on toilet paper

i wipe my goopy schnozz raw as a radish

with cheap paper towels.

sneeze once, twice,

send a constellation of contagion

hurtling through space.

“i wouldn’t wish my covid on anyone,” says the high-minded, but

high-minded i am not.

i can think of three people i would absolutely wish my covid on, just off the top of my head.

i am a temporary monster,

piteously rattling my chains,

waiting, impatient,

for the nice lady

who usually writes this shit

to recover.