In silence. Cleverly
Is abroad, intent on killing
All the world’s eight billion souls.
You sense a tickle in your throat.
Turning blue,
ICU.
Biology, malice intent,
It wafts its way and randomly
Prescribes our liquid punishment.
Cough and phlegm,
Death pro tem
Months pass and Do we? May we? see
A blessed end to breathlessness?
Not so, we are misled again;
The ball has spawned a spikier son.
No vaccine
And those with lungs serene and clear
Suspect the sneaking dark unknown
Aware of its intelligence,
Its lack of motive, Jahweh-like.
Ask yourself.
Suspect the sneaking dark unknown
Aware of its intelligence,
Its lack of motive, Jahweh-like.
It comes. Lo!
And you go.
Were we so very bad? Every
One of us? To face this cull?
This spider’s web of plastic tubes,
This end without a sweet goodbye?
Ask yourself.
This captures the moment so beautifully, poetically, poignantly. Such a moment in which we find ourselves and ask, were we so very bad...
ReplyDeleterobin andrea: There is still a compulsion to say things, but differently. Every so often, despite devoting myself to prose throughout my life, I need tighter rhythms, more conciseness and a longer leash on my imagination. Verse, then. Still pretty amateurish but perhaps the effort is recognisable.
ReplyDeleteAs catchy as the bug itself.
ReplyDeleteMikeM: Perhaps I should set it to music (the thought shudders) and prove your point 100%. "Catchy" - just about right for a single-word judgement.
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