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Poem: Superbug

Posted on August 3, 2009October 17, 2022 by David Barker

A suberbug is coming,
an evolved pathogen
with tougher DNA,
a variant, a strain.
We delude ourselves (they say)
to believe we grasp the highest
link of the food chain.

I am resistant
to the idea that microbes
borne on the currents
from a spluttered sneeze
could abbreviate my teeming
Petri dish thoughts. Is pen
an antigen? Or more the disease?

The subject line: SARS and
Swine flu have interbred.
If I open the attachment
it will infect my hard drive
with a virus. Is there a shot?
Or is it only in danger
that we thrive?

I would pay well for the cure
to a bad idea: the kind
that bores into a mind
and chews up an education,
the ripening years
of experience, the meat
of personal affection.

I want inoculation
but can think of no one
(not shaman nor doctor)
who can set my mind at ease
with chants or cold vaccines
to protect me against the strains
of the world’s general disease.

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