The Illness
Seven
A Viator

I’m so sick.
It’s strep, of course,
I mean, It’s usually strep
But it’s day one,
and I’m also participating in a marathon of poems
today.

The poems come harder.
I’m so sick,
So each line gets stranger
With each passing hour
But no stranger than strange
So I suppose that’s something I can write about.

Or, instead, could I write
Of the infections of the world?
I’m so sick
Of politicians and their anti-trans hatred.
“The Trans Debate” is
“The Jewish Question” is
“The Negro Problem” is
The newest set of code words
Chosen to dehumanize the people
They seek to oppress

Because oppression is the only way
They know how to maintain the power
They wield over others.
I’m so sick
of rich cis het white men
And their rich cis het white money
Polluting the only planet we have.

So though I fever,
Let this fever dream stand
For something more
Than just an infection.
I’m so sick
And no amount of medicine will cure
The spreading contagion
That is capitalism.