Poetry

I feel biserable

by Natalie Thomson



Is there anything worse than a cold
       (in diseases, both modern and old)?
       Oh, the plague called bubonic
       Could be labelled platonic
       When compared to this iron-grippe hold!


       Oh, the first days are really the worst,
       As the sneezes and blows come in bursts.
       Understanding is zealous
       (also, secretly jealous)
       By friends who feel they've been there first.


       Consider (let's, just for a starter),
       Germ for germ, were we able to barter,
       Would we welcome a trend
       That leads right to the end
       And be grateful to die like a martyr?

       


February 1, 2002
 


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