A saucerful of warmed coconut oil, green
eucalyptus leaves steeped in bath water:

threshold you have to pass, stepping out
of the country of illness and back into

the ordinary world. Before that, the looped,
confusing paths of fever delirium. Hours

during which the parched throat can only
utter the sounds of one terrible syllable. 

Someone needs to crack an egg into a bowl 
of water to see which way the bloody eye 

is pointing, which cloud sinks to the bottom 
to never rise again. Someone needs to be 

saved from the fishbone cutting unknown 
names on the walls of their throat. 

Should you dream of every tooth in your mouth 
falling like citadels into sand, you must wait   

for however long it takes the water to clear. 
You must lie on your bed like a panel of gauze,  

like a rib of interlaced fern. Let the light 
which has touched everything including darkness

enter without resistance and search you again.

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