We’re being created once more in their splendid image,
forced to take their recent high-tech ichor –
a new kind of serum that grows the Spike protein.
On the rat specimen it’s not been sufficiently tested
to avoid fiery arguments with those who love to death every animal.
We’re the baffled citizens of the Global Farm
with needles lacking threads sewing shut our mouths,
slaves of the emerald paper
that like an usher of yore
opens every portal
but we’re encircled by wolves
that are dressed to the nines with the finest sheep wool.
Who has time to care anymore
what we stuff in our bellies
or to ponder over cancer and what triggers its tentacles
when different measures are being taken
for a final culling… and not even in ways that remind of a snail or that are somewhat secretive or merely anonymous.
