Sick Bed Poem by Gert Strydom

The flue eats
my head and throat and body
and still you come and lie
close against me
and let your fingers
branch right through mine.

My throat burns
and I am scared
that you will also
get something
of this awful thing,
but without a worry
you kiss me
and I can feel life
pulsing on your soft hot lips.

Your fingers tickle the hairs
on my lip and chin
and there are teasing devils
dancing in your eyes,
while your fingers
creep to places
under my arms.

Like a child
I am given medicine
while I am already
much better,
in my soul and spirit
since you are with me.