It did not knock at the door.
It just entered
and went straight to my room.

It spread its arms and legs
growing large, in silence
like a mist of gas and snow.

It took over flesh and bones.
An army of ghosts.

My mind refused to surrender.
But I quickly lost hands
and tongue.

It was difficult to know
what had happened.
What was, now, home?

Possessing all I own
a new, uninvited, lodger
was devouring mind and soul.


Now, it is later.
My eyes open like a window.
I listen to a new light.
I can hear resistance.

In my body’s garden,
a guerrilla against this poison
is growing strong.


Rio de Janeiro, 4 August 2015
[An ode to the wrong antibiotic]