Autobiography of Fever II.

by John Sibley Williams

John Sibley Williams

the fever spreads.

clocks, of course,
but now it is hard to believe
in skin.
The slow-drag of words
across it
is a strange actuality.

Because I have not known
the feel of hummingbird wings,
have not counted the beats
that keep them from falling

Because I have not known
piles of half-crushed skulls,
have not held them up
and seen light
through their dry sockets

Because I have not known
have not tasted
what the mouth wraps around

Because still my rain
my red is just red

Because I cannot
actually eat my young
but I do, nightly,

all that remains
is how best
to fit one shape
upon another.

The hammer’s handle is sharper
than the nails
because it knows my hand.

The corners of shapes
begin to peel away
like a grown child’s wallpaper
I have painted over
so often

the foundation might be driftwood
or any other word
for abandon.

Autobiography of Fever, chapbook

John Sibley Williams's picture

John Sibley Williams is the author of six chapbooks, winner of the HEART Poetry Award, and finalist for the Pushcart and Rumi Poetry Prizes. He has served as Acquisitions Manager of Ooligan Press and Publicist for Three Muses Press and holds an MFA in Creative Writing and MA in Book Publishing. Some of his over 200 previous or upcoming publications include: The Evansville Review, RHINO, Rosebud, Ellipsis, Flint Hills Review, and Poetry Quarterly.

Last updated September 08, 2011