Sick

It nauseates me, the memories I wake up and know

but cannot say, as if I must hurl up

the things that hold meaning to me,

the aftertaste sour in my mouth.

How will I know, what I am to do.

I do not blame you for learning to know, the way you did.

I hope you will not resent me mine;

whirling through, aimless in my lightheadedness.

Those of us infected, how can we understand

if we are moving forward with our lives?

This morning I cried, for no reason I could digest

and the tears churned unsettled in my stomach.

Try: take some honey in the afternoon, if the mornings are too harsh;

Have some tea after dinner. If there is no cure,

there are the things that will make life a little softer,

a little easier to swallow.