Laocoon Turns Twelve
"Laocoon Turns Twelve" (or "Fever Poem")

At twelve in the grip of fever
with one ear on the muttering in my bedroom
and one ear pressed on the pillow I knew
my power was as the power of a king
whose kingdom would soon be annexed
pooled entirely in my poor fate
the worried faces hung above me like cold
crescent moons in dark air ripe with sweat
they were cooing me back to life they wanted
to woo me back
i pressed my face to the pillow i breathed
hot breath into it serpent's breath

i wanted to be immersed in fire an extraordinary
thing i could sense it stirring
my limbs up they cycled
out of my power
i wanted to bloom like a ranunculus
red hot as the breath of god
they lifted me
they bore me
in the blankets they left my sweat
on my scratched hands
fire had scraped its teeth
they placed me in a bath filled with ice
and left me there a small brown figure
the grown moon erased itself
in the window o sky like a mouth