INFECTIOUS

I am contaminated with the mould of humanity.

Bacterial blooms of fur: of blues,

And browns, and greens, sprout, infect,

Harvest my nutrients.

(I hold my dish in empty arms.)

My soul is a reactant;

The strangers’ spores glisten as pearls

On my self-transcendental decay.

Pathogens from long-forgotten voices dapple my

Face in freckles. My blood is a microbiome.

I wear my cloak of prokaryotes and close the door.