ruthless gene

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

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