About Mold

Beer-brined and wicked
Meat on a meat hook
Sweets on a sweet tooth
Mold growing in the walls
And it’s paranoia #1869
Grant the railways passage
Horseradish suffrage on the boards
Discordant hymns upon the Cutty Sark, ho!
Stains spread on the wall
I call the California Department of Health services
I get a pamphlet:
Mold in my home: what do I do?
I don’t know!
I might only believe there is mold
my wife says there is
that there must be
and I am susceptible to what must be
the day before yesterday
I wasn’t afraid of my walls
But those days before yesterday are over
I was a great man once, within my walls
Walking on wind
Riding centuries of steel
Those walls around me, growing mold now
Betrayed by my own security
My own solitude
What if it’s in my brain?
My lungs?
Multiplying spores in my blood.
How do we survive this?
This attack, this fungal invasion
Can you imagine the intrusion
The violation of it all?
Coffee colored stains
So joyous in the past as they’d work across
My notebook pages at the local café
But now, growing on the walls
From the inside out
I fear, the capabilities of this mold
I’ve heard the stories:
Respiratory stories
Tales of memory loss
Mood swing fables
Nosebleed sonnets
Haikus of fever and pain
Wheezing novellas
And dry, hacking epics
These molds are present everywhere
Indoors and out, the pamphlet says
Like a god, omnipresent poison to the mind
Microscopic and alive
Crawl and creep
Maul and seep
For molds to grow and reproduce, the info sheet reads
Molds need only a food source –
Any organic material will do it:
Leaves, wood, paper, dirt –
I didn’t even know dirt was organic!
Do you know what else is organic?
No, besides Hitler…
Me! I am organic.
I am mold food
I am mold reproduction
My skin
My liver
Kidneys spleen and eyes
I’ve checked the check list
The mold causation list:
Damp crawl space… CHECK!
drippy Roof… CHECK!
Plumbing leaks… Oh dear, Check.
Steam from shower or cooking… Oh, hell yes, CHECK!
And I was concerned
I was concerned before I got the data from the Health Dept.
But they had to ask me
Why did they have to ask me,
“Should I be concerned about mold in my home?”
They put the question in my mouth, then answered it –
Didn’t they think I was worried?
Just a little
Calling them and all as I did?
I informed them of the threat
Clearly I felt threatened
Yet, their cruel response,
“Should I be concerned…”
about a snake calmly eating my head?
With the high price of gas?
Over nuclear proliferation?
That nobody seems panicked the way I’m panicked?
Because I’m panicked
Ye, gods, I’m panicked.


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