Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Genetics

the common harvest
the blood in my veins
locked up in chains
of chromosomes
twisting in gilded silence
and no equal

on the throne,
with infinite passion for life
the gatherer of crops mourns
with lordly pain, since
in predicted conceit, I
hand down
my goods
to my sons


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Prompt: genetics, the gene, or a mutation