Ryan with fever won't sleep but
lies shallowly within
himself,
within his red throat,
distent cheeks, his hair
greased and flaking,
within the room is
hot and tissue litters
the floor and the bed and his hand
I believe he is waiting
to replace himself,
within himself
he is curled and watching
the fever roar through like
a gorged lion, he waits
in a cave, within himself,
with his head on dry sand and eyes
half closed he lies still
and watches
the lion, ropy tail,
pacing the cave entrance
starving itself out,
he lies still in the cool
arid cave and waits
to come back.
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