Termites And The Clone Poem by K.S.Subramanian Subramanian

Termites and the clone



A long trek down the boulevards,

soft, silken breeze caressing arms,

traffic gliding silently as the crowds,

made veins surge, eye drink in the charms.



Mind warmed to the nuances of beauty,

Can beauty ever be rimmed in a clone?

Ethics shackled to a punctilious brain?



Stem cells to free a body from decay,

fate-storming war off a chip's chest,

bacterial gene in plant to scare away pest

- Hail a brave new world or a stowaway?



Does the trekker at the tip of a new wave,

fancy a shore of pink faces on the summit?

Wyatt's steam engine ferried angry ghettoes,

a sullen underworld and nocturnal Luddites;

Can the trekker undo its shadows?



With papier-mache gods in its sleeve,

every eye steals a march on the past,

or fancies it does; from amoeba to mammal

the bell of cohesion rings the loudest;

But not heard; does the clang of the bell

stop termites from infecting thought?

A terrible thought is brewing in the caverns;

Termites hissing menacingly at the clone.