Pandemic Poetry – 1

I am so tired

Weary

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.

 

unseen,

     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

 

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