The Judge Poem by John Parsons

Wavy and invisible; undetectable
Like the white-out on
Life’s display board,
Boredom, the muse of Anxiety.

She is a parasite of all forms
Of breath: spiritual, mental, physical
Customizable to your environment
Just like HIV to your antigens.

Worrying isn’t an art-
You can’t paint, draw or write it.
You live it, like my Cherokee ancestors
Afflicted with St. Vitus ’ Dance.

It must be
One of those fifty-two chromosomes.

That makes up the DNA Pool,
The Judge that pardons and condemns at the same time.

And also writes your life script-
Not yours, but mine.