A STRING OF SMALL PEARLS Poem by Adam Dickinson

Group A Streptococcus
We are in the throat now.
Necks

are the hardest animal
parts to scale.

We are in the throat,
disingenuous

with the night-time sleeping
arrangements for ulcers.

We are in the throat
now as the caterpillar

and butterfly parent
completely partitioned worlds.

We prick light
on a throat

culture
of entitlement, remarkable

for its moth-eaten,
tonsillar birthright.

Hospitals are being infected
by their inhabitants'

throats.
We are in the throat

trying
to make a difference

to our sporadic communities.
Insurrection

is metabolism practiced
with spit.

We are in the throat now
sharing the same spoon.