Monday, March 19, 2007

"One Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest"

I lay here near breathless from the pneumonia that has filled my lungs with pus and fluid from the whisper of bird flu. A bead of sweat trickles arduously slow down the center of my brow, but my body so weak I cannot even raise a hand to wipe it clean. I feel my heart race faster, and I have long since lost the clear definition between being awake and being asleep to know if this is all true. I find myself in my hospital gown, in the center of the street, surrounded by an army of people in surgical masks, with dead chickens in arms extended. They come at me with great, grave purpose, all arms stretched in my direction. I cannot see their mouths, yet I know the devil is stuck between their teeth. I stand there paralyzed in fear and weakness, and think it an awful shame that this is the last thing I will see before I die. Aleathia Drehmer 2006 Published by The Cerebral Catalyst 11/06

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