Poetry

Volume XXXVII, Issue 1, February 21, 2014

 

Ode to Whining

The mice do not complain, said he—

They do not moan or whine—

Before extraction of a brain

Or anesthesia time.

 

But mice are truly quiet things

(Outside Horacian lines):

With microscopes we look on brains

But cannot look on minds.

 

So while for cell-providing cause

Our friends are well-endowed,

My instincts scamper to embrace

An upright-standing crowd.

 

For underneath the need to fuss

Some human genes align.

To work with those who interact

I’ll work with those who whine.