this commanding fever

conjures a blue musician

the dulcimer of patience in his hand

noted harmonies I heard but couldn’t understand

God in his worlds unfolded

sad-perplexed minors

deathly silent stanzas falling in refrains

of sanguine hearts born back from the grave

with feathers of visionary yellows and green

any true melody with measured music

resides in such songs as these

so too the angels leaning in

from the golden seat of spirits

their fine ears tuned

to these astonishing cadences

smiled down from the stars

I slept in fits between cold damp sheets

glossed in sweat

till the fever broke in me

then woke

so blessed