We Libs don’t give two f*cks about their “rights”—
it’s true. We’re mostly trying to survive…
Control over this plague was in our sights,
but the brainwashed, being derivative
clod-heads, would rather die than social distance,
wear a mask and get a jab that may have
sIdE eFfEcTs (you mean, survival?), perchance
communal sacrifice… An early grave
is better than allowing Socialists
to give free healthcare to the immigrants—
why live & let live when we Nativists
can make eternal beds with sycophants
& take some freedom-hating Commies with us…
Their law is greed. It’s not mysterious.
Their law is greed. It’s not mysterious:
It isn’t linked to ancient lizard people
George Soros pays to censor & exploit us
with secret drugs to render us all sheeple
& poison in the waterways to turn
us gay; it isn’t even standardized
instruction scripted for our kids to learn
to hate the place their forebears colonized.
Their claims of loving all people the same
however brown, black, purple, pink, or yellow
(while wishing they’d go back to where they came
from) hinge on self-styled scarcity of elbow
room: All Lives Matter! means theirs matter more.
The cult thinks freedom’s won by keeping score.
The cult thinks freedom’s won by keeping score—
a zero sum pursuit they only win
by stopping someone else from having more,
especially a someone with dark skin.
Such is the field the novel virus stepped on,
all suited up & ready to do battle;
protein spikes are no more swiftly spread than
inside hosts who’ve made a plague political:
To drop like flies, their eagerness abounds,
while courtesy toward others is reviled
as weak & guidance backed by science sounds
unfair, restrictive… More reconciled
to giving up the ghost than the vacation,
they choose the way of flesh over salvation.
They choose the way of flesh over salvation…
Why give up now as if we could control
tomorrow? Covid concurs: Predation
is all about the feast and meat is soul-
food for a hungry virus dependent on
warm prey in poorly ventilated spaces—
and all the more for strains intent upon
exploiting specimens with naked faces
in close proximity and breathing one
another’s air. Such scenes are all the rage
for pathogens to spawn a new mutation.
Each super-spreader adds another page
to Covid’s trusty guidebook, Multiplying:
Some Humans Really Don’t Object to Dying.
Some humans really don’t object to dying
as much as they hold dear an asshat’s right
to choose to spread disease over complying
with public safety measures; yet, when spite
& power are the aims, they’ll regulate
a womb up the wazoo—freedom be damned
for those whom men feel free to violate—
whose selfsame sanctity of choice gets rammed
right up their deity’s almighty sphincter
where neither sun nor virtue’s known to shine.
Hypocrisy has never been distincter
than when a fragile patriarch’s mid-whine.
But I digress—this started as some rhymes
concerning our pandemic’s deadly enzymes…
Concerning our pandemic’s deadly enzymes,
is there a part of “airborne protein spikes”
that’s still uncertain? Guess I missed the End Times
Review’s new tourism promo: The Dikes
at Viral Load—come soak in our famed spout
of contagion; find out what sacrificing
your grandma to the plague is all about…
A swarm of termites would be more enticing.
In any case, I lived through this disease
& while I didn’t die, I’m incomplete—
I’ve not since laughed or breathed without a wheeze
& lavender will always smell like feet…
We’re parents of a bouncing baby shit-storm:
This new ribonucleic acid life form.
Copyright 2022 Stephanie L. Harper
Stephanie L. Harper’s poem “Cassowary” was selected by Mark Doty as a finalist in the 2021 Red Wheelbarrow Poetry Prize and published in Red Wheelbarrow Literary magazine. Her poems also appear or are forthcoming in The High Window (American Poet Feature), Whale Road Review, Panoply, Neologism Poetry, North Dakota Quarterly, Narrative Northeast, The Night Heron Barks, and elsewhere.