Tuesday, August 20, 2013


Woke up too early this morning sneezing so hard
I had to back up into a corner in order to stand
or I'd fall down, deliriously weak at the knees.
I knocked out dozens of sneezes back-to-back.
No dainty titterers—these bull-roarers
were capable of nailing my brains to the door,
on the wall, the ceiling, or even the floor.
I snozzled, I drizzled, I snorted water up my nose.
I shoved my nightie up my nostrils to stem the flow.
My uvula flapped like a tiny cartoon punch bag.
I couldn't catch a breath, my heart leapt in its cage.
I wonder if anybody ever died of sneezing.
Cluster sneezes, someone called them.
In Ancient Greece, it was a sure sign of the gods.
Bless you and I am speaking God's truth. Achoo!
During the Middle Ages, life was tied to breath,
to sneeze was to let death in, or out—like a cat.
Ring around the roses, pocket full of posies.
In Asia it meant someone was talking about you.
No posey for remembrance, but a full-on sneeze.
The world must be positively gossiping about me.
Did you know you can't sneeze during REM sleep?
They say your heart stops. They say it's like sex. 
I scream Achoo! I'm knackered by mini -gasms, 
I'm in need of a nap. No proverbial cigarette.
Must be the smoke from the wildfires.
Last night's lightning storm was a real case
for Thor smoking in bed again. I wonder who
the lucky mortal was. Did she go up in smoke?
The air does smell a bit barbequed.
This morning, my blog hit 90,000 readers
Now, that's nothing to sneeze about.


1 comment:

Glenn Ingersoll said...

yipe! gesundheit!

a fun piece of writing. (you're okay, right?)