A poem looking back on the horror of polio
Pippa Kay, 65, is a writer with many interests. She enjoys time with her family, sailing, reading, writing, and all sorts of travel. She belongs to writing organisations including the Society of Women Writers and the Fellowship of Australian Writers.
POLIO
When we were kids a monster came to play.
Its slobber slimed our toys. It swam at our beach
uninvited; splashed us and ran away;
hid in our homes, always just out of reach.
Hands over ears couldn’t stop its snigger
as it crept under beds, slept on the floor.
It wasn’t scared of us. It was bigger
stronger and worse than anything before.
It shared our breath and caught the goodnight kiss
mothers blew from lips to land on our cheeks.
Chance chose its victims. It was hit and miss
slaughter.
This killer stalked our town for weeks
in nineteen-fifty-three. Our legs were chained,
voices frozen. Some children couldn’t walk.
Some couldn’t breathe. Infants were constrained
in iron lungs. Many died before Salk’s
vaccine arrived.
With open arms and doors
We asked the virus vanquisher to stay.
We rolled up our sleeves, took the jab, because
we wanted this monster to go away.
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