October 1, 2021

Trickle

You who don't mask up, take the jab, or hunker down

Carry the burden like a wind-driven spore

Through the gurneys, past the monitors,

To the doors where the sick can't get in.

As indifference and bodies pile up

The scrubbed and the pinned break down,

Pushed past the limits, they decide 

To never come through the doors again.

This indestructible spore oozes into offices

Of accountants and executives

Who raise the stakes, increase incentives

To ensure the staffing demands.

Out of the classrooms, pens in hand, pour

Trainers and trainees who can't move fast enough

To get their names on the bottom line

Before the offers are pulled away.

Surely there must be some dialogue

In corridors ivy and antiseptic,

Attempts to be ambulatory about a future

When everyone has lost their faculties?

So, here I sit, shouldering chip and spore

Because I can't give much more,

Knowing the allure of an academic pace

Can't compete in economic spaces.

-------------------------------------------

Don't worry about me or that bead of sweat,

A mere trickle on my neck.

Once you remove the boot you'll see

How deeply I've already waded crises like these.