LIKE A VIRUS

       


        On shelf or counter
            they will latent lie.
        in supermarkets,
            boxes 'neath the stairs,
        or from a friend,
            through ear or eye,
                the sly contagious germ
                    will enter unawares.
        And once infected
            no help can you find.
        First you'll deny it,
            try to carry on
                until the fever bans work
                    from your mind.
                Your hands are hasty. 
                Appetite is gone.

        You might as well give up. 
        Go home to bed.
        Take phone off hook. 
        Turn heater on or fan.
        Put coffee at your side. 
        Lamp over head.
            For, though you'll toss and turn,
                you're quite resolved to end
                    the mystery novel while you can,
            'Cause you can't function
                till the murder's solved.

 

Reviews

[J. F. Charleston]

A good write that left me wondering about your words in this piece.