Strip to Slip

Here's a poem and a picture.

One Cell Boy

I’m a one cell boy, morally perfect,

going on motion alone, without hope.

I have no nerve, no serotonin.
I’m not outraged by anything.
I can’t see, & am not even self aware.

The petri dish is my home.

I’m strong with blind intuition,
floating in protein & sugar water,
my DNA nearly visible.

Nobody cares to keep one cell alive.

Some status is given to certain cells,
situations, the potentiality of division,
but no change for me.
I’m already here, a helpless,
selfless link in some chain:
the final selection of a one shot deal.