Cocoon with No Butterfly in Sight or Six Weeks with the Flu

by Carmen Mason

First I curse the invisible vise    the air   sky   alien breath
agents of ache and heat and then this     an endless      wrenching      cough
bent on breaking down this fragile frame I’ve fortified for years
still at seventy appearing ept !
Then mere and    mothy    I surrender     falling down into bed
the thick layers purchased for pastel prettiness and cozy sleep
now pulled and  knotted    clumsily around me
putrid wisps of musk and powder in the air
and I      pummeled       muscleless       humiliated
the indignity of flu       rendering me      lightweight      moaning
woe                                           is                                           me

Oh just once more to be encased in a birthing bag
new and fit                   refracting a fiery                 stained-glass grandeur
just once more a            feathery                 flickering                     fluttering thing
soaring to glory or radiant ruin

Carmen Mason has been writing poems since she was six, has won poetry prizes throughout the years, has been published in small magazines and enjoys sharing her poetry at open mikes. She writes short stories and memoir, but feels her most intrinsic ‘voice’ is a poetic one.