As the trade talks recommenced
The leper leader, in his shack
Alone, was too consumed with languor
To brush the flies from off his eyes.
The envoy from Leprosia
(The free colony’s new name)
Sat opposite his counterpart,
Across a broad and flaking table.
The Isolation Hospital’s
Negotiator, in the torpor,
Squinted at the ceiling’s glare
Reflected from the dusty yard.
Flies resting on the fan’s blades
Observed in fractals compromises
Over morgue and graveyard access
Conceded morosely.
Then, at last, a vague conclusion,
Just firm enough to hold til dusk.
The Hospital’s envoy joked
“We’re now called Consumptia!”
His laugh became a coughing fit.
He screwed his hankie in his pocket,
Thumbing some dampness on his cuff.
All thought it best not to shake hands.