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How to beat the flu: a poet's guide
Wednesday, January 12, 2011

An extremely nasty bout of flu - the swine variety. I think it was a kind of cosmic revenge for my last posting. There is nothing to be done but suffer - and wipe down your tops, as the lad in the call centre informed me. Don't go near your GP or A and E ward or you'll spread it around. Not that there is any way you can move. And who can help? You can't speak or stand. Experimenting with a new language based approach to poetic exercises, I offer this as an example of one friend's attempt to pull me out of the depths.

new year old dog

and how are we to prove
the love of a devious coward
as he powers through the snow
to attend her flu
apply loofah in the shower
merciless as a larded lord?
penniless, his worth is laughter
she, cursing less, admits
he fits her like a shoe.

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