Fever begins in the mouth—a tongue press’d
On the teeth, sand caked to the gums—your thumbs
Way-in-the-back crushing your molars to dust.
//In the eye—fever vows lies, that others are sweating
Others are pale, the man there beside you has let loose a wail,
//Coughs comforts from deep-deep in the throat,
These, not from a fever—no—not on your lips,
The lady beside you has covered her chips
//In the mind, a refuge of faith, not sick contagious,
Please hand me a tissue, hay fever or vent dust
List yourself issues. See, nothing at all, lean on the guard rail
Rest by the wall, this isn’t a fever, you’re not really ill
If it were your neighbor, board windows—take action!
But since it’s your fever you hope for compassion.