Contagion
        "Let's hope we don't catch it. I'd hate to wake up some
        morning and find out that you weren't you."
                                —Invasion of the Bodysnatchers

Some squares are really circles, Daddy said.
They're round inside but hide it cleverly—
a snaky trait, and maybe it could spread.

They have no point so might as well be dead.
Alive they put us all in jeopardy:
those squares are circled round us, Daddy said.

It clearly has to do with how they're bred,
not like us, who do with qualms and brevity
that seamy act whose germs they're known to spread.

What makes them act that way we dread
to talk about, it shakes our poise so readily.
Some squares would make us circles, Daddy said.

We'd like to take them to the backyard shed
and whip them till their backside's leathery.
And hesitating only helps it spread.

The slippery slope they hope to have us sled
we fear as much as death or even bankruptcy.
Some squares are really circles, Daddy said,
and feeling round some nights, we fear it's spread.

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Copyright © 2020 William Trowbridge All rights reserved
from New Letters
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission