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fed up head because my eyes,
are so stinking swollen and red,
temples don't denote religion.
everyone's got it, it got
lungs filled with fluid,
cough dry but no hernia, yet.
invisible ghost that wants to share,
fog that breathes carnage.
we weaken against its knees,
and none of us know it
as well as it knows us.

8 Feb 05

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excellent.. near to personification as such a topic should be.. yet you do not make it personified, cheap and trite. "temples don't denote religion" an example of some fine, minimalist imagery.  Very well fitted.   Ray and his dad, in that season of '18 and '19 were the only ones who did not get the influenza.  All others were sick in bed but the four year old and his dad who helped tend to them all. No one died.  But I knew a woman from Germany who was also immune.  She was pressed into service as a nurse by the local hospital.  She saw hundreds die "dropping like flies even before we could get them  admitted and put in a bed.. or left to lay on the hallway floors.  Even the doctor who recruited me becuase I was not sick... he got the flu very shortly and he was dead".   Not to digress from you poem.. a poem that harks up but a fraction of what the flu can do to a population which has not seen its like before.  Our annual  revisits of the flu variant is a blessing, not a curse.. or otherwise this would be 1918 all over again.  Great poem.. it knows us better than we of today generally -remember its first great arrival-     netsky
 — unknown

interesting bits of history there netsky. thanks for the comments.
 — hank

nice, when poems stick to the title so well and yet deliver a message of their own.
 — listen