GOD’S TECHNOLOGICAL BREAKTHROUGH

For all those who have dragged themselves into work the morning after influenza strikes.

I cough and wheeze the whole night through;
My head feels as though it has split into two.
In the morning I must, whatever the cost,
Be a tick on an optical mark sheet.

I stretch out my legs from under the sheet
And listen to sounds coming in from the street.
However I feel, I must, in an hour,
Be a tick on an optical mark sheet.

‘No-one will thank you,’ my husband has said,
‘The best thing for you is to get back into bed.’
Advice is ignored for I know that I must
Be a tick on an optical mark sheet.

My progress is slow. and my head – it still throbs.
My mind races through the long, long list of jobs.
There is no alternative, I have to ensure
I’m a tick on an optical mark sheet.

My world is now spinning, my eyes really pain,
The sweat from my skin causes underarm stain.
What else can I do? I’m told that I must
Be a tick on an optical mark sheet.

I’m sure I can make it but wait, who is here?
‘I am Saint Peter; please be of good cheer.
We’ve made very sure that we’ve ticked off your name
On God’s very own optical mark sheet.’