FEVER

When an angel or a god descends,

you don’t ask why.

You don’t question stormwinds,

thunder, lightning.

 

My knees buckled when I saw him.

My mouth and throat went dry,

a fever scorched my skin.

 

I wanted to hide.

 

I wanted to see and be seen.

 

I asked him where he lived—

he cursed and knocked me down.

 

When I came to, he was gone.

 

In this encounter, who lost?  Who won?

He got the thrill of action, macho—

But I bear deep in every vein

a hidden flame, the fire of Michelangelo.

 

Note: The violence is fictional, based on my fears.  The man, and the fever, were real.

 

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