Pandemic Poetry – 1

I am so tired


Drifting into dejection

into ennui

to fog

On little cat’s feet

my mind tiptoes past the pen

     the raging herd of worry

           anger, confusion.

Hush little baby, don’t say a word

Momma’s going to make you a cute face mask


Smiles are rarer these days

     unreadable without optics

Teeth flash but the soul is dull

     cotton ¿grin? joyous eyes


Life is streaming 

dance party, class, funeral.



     u n s e e a b l e,

          t  h  e    p  r  e  d  a  t  o  r

               t   a   k   i   n   g     i   t   s      s   h   a   r   e, 

                    l    e    a    v    i    n    g        s    o    c    i    e    t    y

                         e         x         h         a         u         s         t         e         d


Tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.