by Susan Jarvis Bryant
“Boris Johnson to launch war on fat after coronavirus scare. It’s alright for you thinnies,
PM tells staff as he accepts obesity increases risk from Covid-19.”
—The Times, UK
With lockdown here, I stave off fear; I will not cease to be!
I scour and scrub and bleach and buff my home incessantly.
For every task I don a mask and rubber gloves as well.
Each room’s pristine; I’m so darn clean, all germs will burn in hell.
I soap my mitts, blitz grime to bits in COVID-zapping fashion,
and when I’m done there’s time for fun—I turn to my new passion.
This quarantine has gleaned a chef drawn from the depths of me,
who chops and stirs and bastes then tastes each scrumptious recipe.
For sixty days I’ve supped and grazed on gastronomic dreams.
A piggish beast, I’ve gorged each feast until I’ve strained my seams.
And now new finds have blown the minds of all who’ve been indulging;
This plague connives to blight the lives of those whose bods are bulging.
I’ve read the dreaded warning tale of scoffing until podgy—
I should have munched on kale for lunch and dodged the sweet and stodgy.
But here we are, too late by far, I’m fat and in grave peril—
I’ve gobbled ‘til I wobble, BUT, at least my fork was sterile!