my brain does not
focus?

go ahead, aske me a question
an
easy one
I can’t
miss my response:
huh

through a white
thicket between mind
and thought
comes fever,
flu,
nausea,

the shakes, my stomach lining
jitters, agitation crawling
up my throat

trapped
the room has no air

another thought
sifts
through
the porous membrane: not

flu
stuck in an anxious miasma of
too warm, but not hot
can’t achieve hot to

let me go,
the nausea to abate,
to move on no
crest to this tepid flood no
breaking and ebbing ten
minutes of it twenty
no cooling comfort that

perhaps
this
is the last,
my very last
hot flash. Ever.

I’ve had a million
trigger them with
candy, a glass of wine,
hot tea, spicy Mexican,
nothing at all to

hate the feeling of
scorched sand frying
up my veins, under
the skin of my
arms, giving me hot chills,
sweat breaks out on
my shins, hair dripping at
the nape of my neck, knowing

only one hot blast will
end the faulty surge
I want the worst,
ready to breathe again.