Poetry by D.W. Walker

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House Guest

Itís really small,
A fragment of RNA in a hard outer shell,
But it needs me.
It wants to borrow a cell,
So it can reproduce.
Iíve got millions of cells, so why not?

Turns out, itís not the sort of guest you want.
No idea of how to behave.
Trashes the cell you lent it,
Then moves on to another,
And another and another Ö
Doesnít know when to stop.

Doesnít help that itís being bullied.
Hundreds of thugs in white coats
Rushing round your veins,
Carrying on like a two-bob watch
Because they donít like intruders,
Intent on knocking it off.

Best I can do is help it on its way,
So it can find a more appreciative host,
Where it might have a better time.
My responsibility to another living thing.
And itís happy to assist,
The sneezing and coughing its own initiative.

Some people say Iím wrong to do this.
I shouldnít encourage it.
I should cover my nose and mouth
Stay at home and meditate,
Stop it spreading.
Itís my fault if it lodges with someone else.

They say my guest is dangerous.
It might kill someone, maybe me.
But isnít that the problem with all relationships,
However many cells the participants have?
So why pick on the little one?
At least itís a trier.

Copyright © D.W. Walker, 2012


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