IT’S NOTHING

“Sit up,” she said
It was an order
But how could I?
There I was, laid on the sofa
Studying the ceiling had become my chief occupation
My body so weak I could hardly sit up
But she insisted
“Sit up,”
“Have you been constipated?” she had asked
As she examined my lower abdomen
“No, exactly the opposite,” I had said
My antennae were wobbling about
Thinking they had detected something
What had she felt in my abdomen?
If I was honest
My abdomen had not been quite right
Not for some time
But I didn’t want to think about that
“Sit up,” she commanded
What did she want me to sit up for?
I obeyed
And immediately fell into
The hugest retching coughing fit ever
“You’ve got a cough,” she said
“Great observation,” I thought
“It’s O.K.” I said
It’s nothing”
“It’s quite a deep one,” she said
With…

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