The Virus I Am

To suffer and see better company

puts a stop to the whole strength

like a scout hitting a trip-line mine

To ache alone is a warm blanket.

Knowing the pain will pass–biting on

a t-shirt because biting ladles buries each tooth backwards.

I think I learned

to suffer so quietly.

My head sticking out of the sand.

The whole of me is buried six feet down

like the virus I am.

Michael Hammerle is a Florida writer. 


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