HANOVER, GERMANY, 1760
Fever blurs night and day, sense and nonsense.
Caroline can’t tell the night watchman’s call
from the chime of the postman’s handbell.
She can’t see far past the fog under her eyelids.
She feels hot, but craves more covers,
struggles to sip from a cup held to her mouth.
Water feels as coarse to swallow as sand.
One night she sees straight again
and wobbles to the window.
Star shine casts hope, reminds her
that smallpox didn’t kill her when she was small.
Neither will typhus now.
She raises her arms as if she might touch the faraway.