---

John Zheng

Sick

Malaria befriends me. Chills and high fever pay their visits every hour. Cocooned in blankets, I shiver, teeth chattering. Cold sweat soaks my shirt. I unwrap myself, trying to clench my jaws. Dazed and dehydrated, I feel afloat like a life preserver. The red pills from the barefoot doctor don’t work.

summer night
moonlight
through the window
a linen shroud
wrapping me

Farmhands take me to the long-distance bus station, saying they want me to get treated in an urban hospital. I know I am always a stranger in their eyes. It’s a stormy day. Thunder and lightning play symphonies. The bus jerks along slowly through the crisscrossing of rain. I begin to feel better, knowing I won’t die. I’m on my way home.

mom’s tears
flow into the soil
of my heart
the sickbed throbs
with life

---

About the Author

John Zheng has authored Enforced Rustication in the Chinese Cultural Revolution and published haibun and tanka prose in CHO, Haibun Today, Southern Quarterly and Spillway.