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FEVER, A PRAYER, AND THE GOD DAMN BIRDS KEEP SINGING Kristene Kaye Brown
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I tried to sleep, but the sun or conviction. What do they know of this heat? It’s been forever since I’ve talked The same air that keeps Fingers laced with morning, Did you know of doing the work of the dirt. This is how it works. but not today. telephone wire, I’m sorry. prayer, as I am tired back beneath their wings. is a fever
__ I wrote this poem while undergoing cancer treatment. Chemo-sick and exhausted from radiation, all I wanted was to sleep. The birds had other plans. I found myself in this strange sort of limbo—happy to be alive listening to the birds sing, yet wishing they’d just shut the fuck up so I could go back to sleep. I didn’t get any sleep, but I did get a poem. |