The Man with Night Sweats: Poems

The Man with Night Sweats

I wake up cold, I who Prospered through dreams of heat Wake to their residue, Sweat, and a clinging sheet.

My flesh was its own shield: Where it was gashed, it healed.

I grew as I explored The body I could trust Even while I adored The risk that made robust,

A world of wonders in Each challenge to the skin.

I cannot but be sorry The given shield was cracked, My mind reduced to hurry, My flesh reduced and wrecked.

I have to change the bed, But catch myself instead

Stopped upright where I am Hugging my body to me As if to shield it from The pains that will go through me,

As if hands were enough To hold an avalanche off.