Alive, we haven’t yet abandoned hope,
although we’re half-forsaken, leader-lost,
and turning to the power in our soap,

by media and propaganda tossed
together toward a herd immunity,
no matter what the economic cost,

to venture in a future none can see –
two yards apart we’ll zombie-walk this spring.
We dread the curve – we’ll ease severity,

we hope, with cleanliness and distancing
(that’s how we’re rolling in my neighborhood),
while fearing exponential pummeling.

We estimate traditions gone for good.
We ponder solemnly, as pilgrims should.