Poem -
Fever 103°
Pure? What does it mean?
Out of her live heart
Beats to a drum
I rummage around in.
I'm disturbed the light
Filters through so bright.
My fever of her
Catching in my paws,
The skin not detoxifying
Of the purity,
Though she is only a woman.
I go to her for advice,
I go so she might
Change my mind.
The theory is Free will
Can save a life.
Is mine
Worth the extraordinary effort,
Or can the temperature
Burn away her beautiful
Poison?
I think hope can be a poison----
Hope love is only a fever.
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A writer's group assignment, (at my local library)
Rules. Pick a book from your shelf, Pick a page and use the first few words. Of course mine would be a poem and of course that poet would be Sylvia Plath.
Has to be a hundred words. And in the spirit of rewriting Plath I've written it in her voice