This is a sustaining cold. It burns
all incautious meat it meets
and well might preserve the corpse.
It varies dulled perception, fracturing
it into a medley of desperations;
yet welcome after being shut in
autumn, summer, spring, staring;
flickers lightening rousing awareness,
uncovering the spider, to its death,
presently motionless, waiting, hostile
and then, as the weight becomes familiar,
immobilising and emptying
as other conscious fantasies
must come to in their mean ends
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