*
At 17 I had the flu
and couldn't go to school.
I boarded yet I barely knew
a single living soul.
My mother brought me nourishment.
I felt her come and go
but was too feverish and faint
to thank her. Did she know?
My sickness brought along this fear:
"your weakness is your fate".
But her strength saved me from despair
and she would sit up late.
And now I'm strong and she is dead
but it still seems more fitting
the other way: me sick in bed
her at my bed's edge sitting.
*
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