Here have I lain: 
weak-awake 
in the wake 
of acetaminophen's 
sweet, uncomfortable taste, 

/

with a throat battle-bruised 
where an itch once did move, 

/

but now sits - 
sits and waits 
on the edge of my brow, 

/

on the fact that my eyes 
have gone greener, somehow - 
on the image of home, 
and home's kiss on my mouth, 
and the feel of home's holy hands 
holding me down - 

/

for here have I lain: 
nauseated with pain, 
shaking, sweating 
and smiling 
with home in my veins.