FeverLet go of desire, I say.
I am trying this out on the drive home.
I picked up the antibiotics for my child’s fever from the drugstore.
The drive home is sunset and you are in my eyes.
When I think of you, I want you
I want you, but I can’t have you.
Such longing you cannot imagine
Even you, yes you, longing for her
Even that is not equal to my longing for you.
I let go of the steering wheel.
Let go, I tell myself, let go
And for a moment you are gone
And such relief in this nothingness but
Then too soon it is back
And I am home
And here is the medication
For the fever.
Copyright © 2014 Holly Hendin
Holly is a psychiatrist working in Phoenix. In her poetry she tries to catch and elaborate on those moments that otherwise would slip quietly by, expanding upon the spaces between the stitches. Her poetry can be found or is forthcoming in The Front Range Review, The GW Review, Crack the Spine, Crack the Spine Summer 2013 Anthology, Schuylkill Valley Journal, The Write Room, Wild Violet, ginosko, Summerset Review, Red Ochre Lit, and Midway.