The Bird Of Ill Omen Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The bird of ill omen
Began with a fever
Shaking all over
Head, on fire
Hands like ice balls
Vice like cramps
Coughing fit to expire

The worst came next
Bringing the bad next news to contacts
Of Covid, by phone or text
Flinging a hand grenade
Into their normal day
Passing on loss of work
Possible serious illness
Poisoned chalice of courtesy

It's not like a Xmas gift
Or a five star award
Heh! I've given you syphilis/Aids/cholera
Have a nice day! !

Who wants to hear
Your presence may have infected
Who will catch it? How badly?
And, are they vaccine protected
Who will bite the bullet?
Who will walk unscathed away?

The bird of ill omen
Flies over the world today
Millions succumb to it
Random, it chooses its prey