![\"images\"](\"http:\/\/noellesickels.com\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/images.jpeg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
“Fevers” was published in the journal,\u00a0Mediphors<\/em>, Bloomsburg, PA, 1994.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The fever stroked her
\nfretful
\ntwitched the savory embers
\nbalsam ash and myrrh
\nfever shuddered through her
\nas stubborn tongues of bulbs
\nsprout up through loamy fields
\ntoward noon’s brief gleam<\/p>\n
The fever broke
\nat midnight
\nwhere yesterdays are born
\nas fevers often do
\nwhen watched
\ndarting dreams were summoned in
\ncorralled like wild mustangs
\nher breathing broken, measured<\/p>\n
She sits erect
\nat honest dawn
\ncoddled in her rightful room
\nher lap receives a careful tray
\ncalming tea and proper toast
\nher ordinary pulse denies
\nits quickened past, the beat
\nso recently adjourned<\/p>\n
Seeking shadows
\nnostalgic
\nfor the sweaty night
\nof throes and visions
\nher flitting gaze
\nfinds instead the sunny window
\nshe winces at the drenching light
\nand longs for banished dangers<\/p>\n
She misses it
\nthe pantomime
\nwhere what was flat looked full
\nimagined words held sway
\nhow all her hollows sang
\nand liquid silver hovered
\nin momentary tremor
\nbetween shy greeting and blind heat.<\/p>\n
Petunias sprawl
\nacross the sill
\nin shameless, shouting pinks and white
\nthe moisture on her salted brow
\nevaporates from view
\nleaves her skin stretched tight
\nlike rawhide on a secret drum
\nat ceremony’s end<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n