a beast created from parts of other beasts
Over LA a crop duster opens
its wing pods; mist exhales from a briefcase
left hissing in a screeching subway station.
EbólaPox is so ethereal
we'll have no clue a countdown has begun.
It will take us a few infinite days
to die––we’ll blacken as we melt away.
I’ll spare you further symptoms. But terrorists
won’t, nor will their feisty microallies
who gather inside us like a slow motion
nuclear bomb, turning families and friends,
ever widening circles of strangers,
to silent singers, our bodies mouthing
hatred so primal it screams through our flesh.
Bagg has published three books of poetry, including Body Blows: New and
Selected Poems (Massachusetts, 1988) and translated seven Greek dramas. His
latest translation, The Oedipus Plays of Sophocles, will be
published in 2004 by Massachusetts. He has been awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship,
a Prix de Rome, and an NDEA grant.