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
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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