Struggling with a cold, Victor dosed himself up on orange juice. He poured some in every hole. Mouth, nose, ears, bum, everywhere. It didn’t help, at all actually, if anything it made him feel a lot worse. But it did give his mum something to write about him in the family’s Christmas newsletter, at last.
© Carl Burkitt 2019
This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2019 – a poem a day celebrating an interesting US national day.
