After Influenza Painting quickly, still a little weak from my abysmal bout with Spanish flu, I stare with baggy, bleary eyes. I streak a bilious green around my mouth, gray-blue along my jaw, vermillion over brows (the fire of my fever) and a brown dent centered in my forehead. This flu allows reprieve but hereby marks me to repent, confess. My health has never been robust and I am nearing sixty. What right have I to live? What kind of God would entrust health to me while letting millions die when in their prime? I can only pray this menace will not strike another day. Barbara Lydecker Crane Barbara Lydecker Crane, a finalist for the 2017 and the 2019 Rattle Poetry Prize, has won awards from the Maria Faust Sonnet Contest, the Helen Schaible Sonnet Contest, and others. She has published three chapbooks: Zero Gravitas (White Violet Press, 2012), Alphabetricks (Daffydowndilly Press, 2013), and BackWords Logic (Local Gems Press, 2017). Her poems have appeared in Ekphrastic Review, First Things, Light, Lighten-Up-Online, Measure, Rattle, Think, Writer’s Almanac, and several anthologies. She is also an artist.
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December 2024
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