Every day a little less evil,
but it is not over,
there is still coughing, convulsing,
expelling the phlegm,
there is still fever, there are still
pains – mighty and meager –
water to drink and rest to be had,
and no time for it.
force rest where you may,
and every day
the jackhammers outside
will chip a bit of earth away,
to mend some hidden and harmful thing
oozing beneath the surface.

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