So infinitesimally small

it can climb through

the thin membrane

making stock dummies

out of a terrified folk…

 

Far worse

than the virus itself

is the fear it harvests

in the minds of its victims.

 

Their blood

is cold as ice

but their terror

is real and vivid -

 

Hot red against

the backdrop

of a lush tropical climate

Like a pistol,

the thermometer gun

doles out its stark

but unspeakable punishment,

the guilty whisked away

to perhaps die a death

oh so painfully alone.

 

The aching aloneness

of quarantine

is perhaps a punishment

worse than a peaceful death

among friends…

 

Severe

Acute

Respiratory

Syndrome,

we bask in the terror

that has been created

in your wake.

 

19 June 2003

 

[Written while SARS was ravaging Taiwan and I was working there]

 

0303-TIN
The Tiny Assailant (poem by Zachar Laskewicz)