Animal to man the harbinger came
silent, creeping down corridors unseen.
In the company of Mary
whose typhoid breath and unclean hands
had cared for many.
Carried through whispers
of lovers and undying affection—
The melodious death wind
of whimsical infection.
Or a child's kiss that we cannot deny.
Whose skin scorches wetly
as lips brush a cheek as they cry.
The demon spawn now gingerly lodged
to make play inside,
putrefy,
come alive,
and thrive,
unknown
for a time...
Until breath stumbles,
and drums of war sound in the brain.
As ragged coughs bring panicked gasps
as presence grows.
With fear.
Care is taken to castle wary souls apart
to mitigate fear, to quiet breed.
Trembling in homes as terrible Wyrms
hoarding their essential needs.
While on wind and smooth surfaces
its talons make play.
The old and infirm
have become its main prey
As youthful lepers gather in droves—
with careless claims of "Seize the day"—
to be unwitting vessels delivering unwarranted woes
blissfully unaware of the human contagion.
For a time...
Until frailty succumbs to a pulmonary lash
and a mechanical breath becomes their last.
Keith E. Sparks Jr.
Copyright © 2020
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