Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.17.4.144

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem


In no real sense is he alive:
a wind-up toy, personified.
A message bundled with a drive,
he neither eats or can divide.

Two hundred million like himself,
each one distinct, yet all the same.
Possessed of vast genetic wealth,
new life’s potential in this frame.

Like pointing north, returning home,
he has no eyes to guide his flight.
A haploid on a beacon honed,
attractive forces are his sight.

A mitochondr’al battery
will keep him till it runs its course.
For five days, if it matters, he
is driven by an unknown force. 

That is to say, unknown to him:
the enzyme, ABHD2,
creates the urge to swim and swim;
there’s nothing else that he can do.

And swim he does! Five body lengths
traversed before a second’s passed. 
If salmon-sized, this feat of strength
is fourteen miles per hour; that’s fast!

And not just fast, but also far;
a mile or two would be the rule,
approximate, but close, on par,
for swimmers swimming in a pool.

And now we know he does not flail
or thrash about while in the water;
a corkscrew does his path entail,
much like an eel or playful otter.

The journey’s end, target in sight,
the bodies littered all around.
A chemical and wondrous light,
a flash from zinc when they are bound.

It seems two things come with this flash:
the door is closed, he’s merged herein.
He does not care; his merry dash
fulfills the goal: new life begins.


----------


for the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 21 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mark Toney
written 05/14/2022

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required