January 9 (2016) Poem by Kit Ludlow

This cold, which passed from a kiss from your lips,
Weakens me as it once had weakened you. 
This virus, none more alive than nymphs 
Who seduced a strayed wanderer or two,
Lives life in the living that dares to live. 
Common, the world calls it, and perhaps so.
It impregnates your cells, my cells. - Forgive 
This cold, it might mingle with all we know. -
But to us, the mild ache honors our vows. 
The fever stirring my blood once stirred yours 
And now I feel as you felt: a slow drowse;
That peace that nurses an ill and cures. 
It was passion that got me inflicted
And your love is what keeps me addicted.