Sarah Scott Journalist

Inspired by Sylvia Plath’s ‘Fever 103’.

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Why a source of comfort?

A comforter

Soaking up sweat

like the wall street men

soak up riches.

–

Consuming me.

Strangling me.

Igniting my temperature

another four degrees,

slowly and uncomfortably,

–

becoming me.

Itchy wool fibres

play with my pale skin

as I try to release

the pressure in my right temple.

–

The only way is to break

the skull, but selflessness

grabs at my wrists and

forces me to the ground

in a heap of body and illness.

–

Bound to the chair

society keeps me,

I ask for help but I speak

only to the wall and not the street.

–

The rich gain riches

and I

lose weight.

–

No soup or retching broth

can help me now.

–

I break.