ruthless gene

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    I was reading the June issue of Harpers last week and found this sentence:

    Israeli researchers have identified a ruthless gene.

    That sentence led to this poem.

    Ruthless Gene

    I wonder how long gone
    she was before anyone
    noticed. The Moabitess had
    been around, refusing to
    leave Naomi and desperately
    seeking Boaz, since Bible days.

    Who knows how Gene came
    into the picture, or why
    he was being studied, or
    how the researchers found
    him, but by the time they
    arrived, Ruth was long gone.

    “Why did she leave?” asked
    one of the white coats.
    “Why do you think?” he
    answered, stamping out his
    Lucky on the back of hand.
    “Why do you think?”

    That’s just the way my mind works sometimes.

    Peace,
    Milton

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