I wrote this whilst I recovered from a life-threatening illness in 1993.
Laid out with ailment
a plaid sort of sickness
familiar corporate pea soup green air
filling lungs like a diseased dairy
The citadel couch is turning
into a re-upholstered Greyhound bus
carrying the motivation
that fell out,
Fever and exhaust fumes
riding that line,
staining the road.