[lit-ideas] Re: Sunday Poem
- From: David Ritchie <ritchierd@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Sun, 1 Feb 2009 14:01:06 -0800
At World Headquarters of C.O.L.D. a madman strokes his cat.
"My scheme cannot fail," says he, "I've attended both to this and that.
I have invisible bugs on phones, I have slathered them on hands,
no flying plane will clear my plan,
no kiss will miss my spread,
I'll grasp your nose in the palm of my hand,
and stuff stuff up your head."
But what his hardened heart of hearts probably sees full well,
is that what he really faces,
is the stealth and the skills of Dendritic Cells,
gathered in silent places,
where they scratch out strategy to defeat his spreading ills,
explore bonds and tolerizing, as yeomen did with bills.
Give therefore these nameless entities, say I today with fervor,
as much applause as they can take, if it go on for ever.
Hooray for these agents, their thrust and cut,
roiling 'neath skin below,
as you rise above the cough cough chop,
toward the skies we know,
soaring toward the closing scene, wherein the sets are struck,
and suddenly down there on a raft,
I spy a fulvous whistling duck.
(I know it's absurd but
Bond always finishes with a bird).
David Ritchie,
Portland, Oregon
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