I caught a cold while I was in Ireland—maybe I carried it with me from Japan, I don’t know. I wrote it a poem to appease it, which didn’t work very well and since it’s still raging on, I thought I’d share the poem with you all.

Headcold

Crunchy lichen rimmed caves
Conceal a monster or machine
Blasting butter jonquils.
A trumpet in the distance—
Elephants? A flute’s whine?
Dogs bark to be released
Into the wooly grey atmosphere
Of the rosy windowed world.

—KMcQ