In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 118-123

Abandoned in the pond, he was alone.
It hadn’t bothered him to have no friend,
but now he felt it inside every bone.
Such hurt remains when cuts and bruises mend.

Nowhere to stay, nowhere to go to heal,
nowhere to hide from taunting and abuse,
except the once-enticing tube of steel,
within which was a woman of ill-use.

That’s not to say he’d get no help at all,
if he, with aching limbs, could make it back.
His sister Noria would hear his call
from where they slept inside the TV Shack®.

She’d tend his wounds and bring him food and drink,
although she owed him nothing but neglect.
He may have been a selfish little fink,
but he was still her kin last time she’d checked.

Was this innate genetic preference?
Attachment to her playmate as a tot?
Did she accept the “Blood is thick…” nonsense?
(Is blood as thick as catsup? I think not)

Her mother’s heart pumped denser blood than that.
The stricken boy had half her genes at least,
while Noria, not knowing who begat,
would suffer less a loss if he deceased.

Catsup: One must admit he has a point. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m happy to admit it. The original line was ‘Is blood as thick as semen, say, or snot?’ That confused the issue because semen relates more than blood to genetics
Less a loss: The way I understand it, in a typical society with high genetic diversity, a biological parent shares 50 % of the child’s genetic material, slightly higher due to occasional and remote inbreeding. A full sibling would share the same percentage if one could be absolutely certain of paternity, but for purposes of this discussion it is the likelihood from the relatives’ point of view, and no siblings could ever be completely sure of having both parents in common, so in most cases it’s probably a little less than 50%. In Noria’s case, it would be much less than 50% because there is no assumption of common paternity at all, but well over 25% due to the low number of potential fathers. In any case, it would be roughly half of what it is for the mother.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac