The Cruel Arrow of Mitosis

Poetry Anonymous

Dear sister chromatid, where is our cohesin? Our bonds weakened to a breaking point And you seem not sorry to be freed Are we then to take leave without a second thought? Our cell to me torn asunder at the plate And to you simply “grown apart”

If it’s ties you find stifling, Well, you won’t be free long, except of me So I beseech you, do not go gentle, sister, Do not grow gentle

But if it is me, not you, goodnight.