By Ivonne Arias

behold an ode
to the common cold,
the bane of all’s existence!

filled with phlegm
you say, ‘never again,
i’ll learn to keep my distance.’

it starts with a cough
you brush it off,
a tired change of season

little do you know
within you grows
a pathogenic treason.

soon enough,
your nose’s stuffed.
every hour is an ordeal.

achey heads
chilly beds,
heal, damn you! heal!

throat’s all scratched
like a zillion cats
had themselves a field day.

you’ll grow annoyed,
but you can’t avoid
lest you live the tightly-sealed way

but it’s not such a fuss.
it excuses us
of all that we don’t wanna.

a reason to be lazy,
let work get hazy.
school today?


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Back to Issue 3.