To Botulism:
O, thou fatally swollen bride of bacteria!
Thou foster-child of silence and dark cupboards!
Groceried historian, who canst thus express
An intestinal tale more firmly than thy hordes!
What spore-fringed legend haunts about thy tins,
Of hospitals, or IVs, or of both,
In Wal-Mart or the dales of discount bins?
(Seriously, packing some of The Boyo’s cupboards is like going on an archaeological expedition…)


