X placeholder

Disease X,
a hypothetical pathogen
capable of causing
a future epidemic.

That’s what they told us.

Disease X, the placeholder name
for the very serious threat
posed to human health
by unknown viruses.

That’s what they told us,
back in 2018.

Disease X, on a pathogen shortlist
prioritised for research
by the World Health Organization.

That’s what they told us,
back in 2018,
but we didn’t listen.

Disease X, the sure knowledge
of a serious international epidemic
from a pathogen currently unknown.

That’s what they told us,
back in 2018.
But we didn’t listen.
And then it was too late.

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Today’s coronaverse is brought to you by the letter X.

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Quarantine times

Forty days isolation,
that’s how it used to be
for Venetian plague ships,
quaranta giorni;
forty days for new mums,
impure until churched,
forty days for Jesus
in the wilderness,
forty days for fasting
in the time of Lent,
forty days of penance:
that’s how long they spent.

So stop your moaning
when told to quarantine:
it’s only fourteen bloody days,
not half a lifetime.

Outbreak control

Image generated from the text of this sestain from https://experiments.runwayml.com/generative_engine/

Whenever an outbreak emerges
authorities fear there’ll be surges.
Surges are hard to control,
with limiting them always the goal.
The best way to stop Covid’s spread?
Obey rules, or risk being dead.

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This sestain is the latest coronaverse, brought to you by the letter O.

Global warning

No one an island.
Viruses respect no walls,
built however high.

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This coronaverse brought to you by the letter G: a haiku, or rather senryu

Contagion rules

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Contagion! Is it coronavirus? Contact-tracing in place?

So stay indoors, self-isolate, staycation.

Couvre-feu, “cover the fire”. Curfew.

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Coronaverse: an alphabet of terms related to Covid-19. Tomorrow brings us the letter D.

Antivax anxiety

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That group who are stridently antivax?
Their hatred of jabs mounts up to the max.
They say “No-one knows just what naughtiness goes
into vaccines;” but note, they are somewhat lax
when it comes to what food in their belly
they have put; one I asked if he’d tell, he
said “Real finger-lickin’, that chlorine-filled chicken,”
and believed all they said, on the telly,
and online: “See, you can’t explain away,”
he said, “vaccine harm to our DNA;
we must all get to grips with effects microchips…”
Urgh — why can’t anyone take all this pain away?

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Coronaverse: an alphabet of terms related to Covid-19. Tomorrow brings us the letter B.

The sharp touch

It creeps round my collar,
it slinks up my sleeves,
steals through the soles
of my shoes with such ease,
spies on the small of my back
and nips at the nape of my neck;
my fingers, my toes,
my ear lobes, my nose,
all start at the sharp touch,
the cold steel,
the grip
of winter

Whatchamacallit

This is a kinda
… whatchamacallit …
on the tippama tongue,
if I knew it I’d bawl it.

But I ain’t got a clue, it
just hasn’t a home
in my mind — wait, I knew it!
They call it … a POEM!

Cronk

A speck in the sky
cries its single note.

Cronk.

I shade my eyes against the sun
to spot, if I can, what’s made
this rude clarion call
to a mate I cannot see.

Cronk.

Resonating bell-like to my depths:
a glimpse of eternity,
a sense of rightness,
a gushing of love
from a precious fountain.

Cronk.

A reminder that
we’re alone
and yet not alone.

And now it’s gone.

Doomsday

Dog eat dog approach:
best of all possible worlds?
That way madness lies.

Glint

Light at night

Show, don’t tell: the glint
of light on broken glass was
Chekhov’s shining moon

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No reason

If when aiming high
low is the result, that’s no
reason not to try