there is this illness
which starts so early
before the feet
reach the floor
before the mind
opens to the door
of morning's reality

this illness
not like a cough
which comes and goes
with the seasons
or an infection
that antibiotics
can cure

more like a fever
that ebbs and flows
through the day
and into the night

forcing the pen
into the hand
pressed to the page
in hopes of
producing a poem

10/28/2008