Virus II

Against a November cold, a man awoke on fire

Beads of disease rolled down his face like dice

Along his neck the perspiration fell beneath the woolen coat he pulled up high 

On the park bench he slept against the streaks of snow

He dreamed of summer trees

A rainbow after a July rain

Then the bracing wind

Against his burning

His temperature rose

He shivered and awoke

The chills came and went, 

Then they came and accompanied the night

He tried to cover his face

But his wool coat was too thin

His hands too frail 

Once he knew his name

Now he knew nothing was forever

Not the coldness in his bones

Not the heat of his virus skin

Nothing remains in the end

Not an autumn moon 

Not a jarring wind

Someday it all ends

Someday it all ends

The winter becomes the spring

The spring becomes the willow of trees

In time the fever mends

He tried to carve a forgotten name in the halo of snow 

His rust coloured cap fell to the ground

And in a dream he slept beneath a fallen summer rain