Infection

Scalp, corset-tight;
muscles screech
against my bones

Flock of geese
in my chest

Map of the world with its new
and jarring colors —

               I avoid the mental math.

Toxic thoughts,
throat-choke fears

               spinning out

My mother’s lungs —
Weary as old dish rags.

My children,
everyone’s children.

Hands scoured raw,
doorknobs sheathed;

I exhale,
leaving the office.

Repeating mantras in the car;
even logic lunges me sideways.

My tires crunch the driveway;
I conjure a smile,
a perky greeting —

Anything
to curb the spread.