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Elegy on a Brazilian Bug

I was warlord
of ten thousand
which multiplied by two
upon my word
whenever sand
ticked nanosecond through.

I was the Word
to a viral band
dividing yet anew,
where’er I stirred
in gut or gland,
spread grief – to each his due.

Card-coded cord,
D.N.A. band,
bound by genetic glue;
a hidden horde,
on every hand
mutating molecu.

As victims soared
some out of hand
perceived the risk that grew,
the threat explored, -
migration banned, -
strategic overview.

My rule was awed
by chain and strand,
primaeval soup and stew;
perverted curd
bad blood would brand, -
a death-mask was my brew.

In prayer implored
strong man, unmanned
with fear, and women too;
to dust restored
the pale, the tanned,
who died ere dawn dried dew.

So, silent s[c]ored
the brave, the bland,
pauper, patrician too;
those loved, adored,
the poor, the grand, -
God to his bosom drew.

With one accord
the fever fanned,
interring not a few;
until we heard
from a foreign land
of a feared French Institut.

Jet engines purred,
saw Concorde land,
descending from the blue;
the silver bird
God’s globe had spanned
with gamma-globulu.

France had prepared
Brazil’s demand –
her government well knew,
for they were scared,
could scarce withstand
the queues where sickness grew.

To germ, absurd,
to Man, ‘twas grand,
both bug and bitten knew
while men murmured
San Paolo’s sand
would test their techniques true.

Drugs undeterred,
injections canned,
from man to man they flew,
vaccines record
where their errand,
ten million jabs to do.

My genes had erred,
Merieux well planned,
they struck my stock so true!
Chromosomes blurred,
nor token stand
we could not make – adieu!

(24 June 1975)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
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