poem: autobiographia literaria

When I was little
sickness was a winter snow
A sigh of white that woke me
and lingered long

My stomach went
deep sea fishing
salty waters threw
sailors overboard

In my mother’s hospital
applesauce was the
antibiotic
and television the cure

And in summer too
my manifest destiny
was lined with frost.
Stop four days to rest.

Based on Frank O’Hara’s Autobiographia Literaria