It began after I had removed my pinafore dress, 
At the end of my gardening hour.
Bare and cleansed after shower, 
I had grabbed the secateurs to remove a wilted flower 
On my favourite periwinkle. 
As I cut it, a slight tremor charged my fingers
And a gentle rush, perceptible yet subtle, pushed my blood. 
Slowly, it progressed into this encircling sensation.

I am warming up little by little, my days dilate under the force of
An undiagnosed yet affliction.
Their pestering advices singe me even more, my only eviction
Is given by ice baths, fleeting recesses out of this sly conviction.
Lately, I hallucinate, there are instants when
I could swear I see cranes with clippers growing
On their wings, impeding their soaring, and hearts leaking
In dried branches of everlasting trees.

When I fall asleep, exhausted in my soaked
White lingerie, while this fleshy frame of codified secrets attempts
To cast away the damaging heat,
I get trapped in same reverie: an empty-eyed chatelaine stares at me 
And murmurs in the rhythm of her waist dangling key
In a vanished idiom, before I find myself audaciously
Bargaining over a red banger decorated with four-leaf clover.
Awoken, I cry over my knees and long for a coolness
To whom I once belonged, and judder at the thought of 
This mysterious foe that keeps me in this mood of not lethal
(specialists assessed), but consuming state of being.

I feel as if I were dragged and abandoned on 
A battlement, pores wholly opened to 
A haemorrhage of unfiltered rays.
Inevitable, besetting and fierier than impulses of erotic fays
In lovers embarked on intimate explorations above rocky bays.
I am a searing firework rising from the lava of
My thawed bearability. 
If I could only spark without going off after!

The photos’ source

2 thoughts on “Fever

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