Inventory (HA 112 Magic 9)

home 100

Supposed to be a simple exercise,
composing every day a formal poem
in house arrest, I guess it’s no surprise
the longer quarantined the more I make.
So far one hundred and eleven tries –
the quantity outgrows a catalogue.
Perhaps I need more tags to organize
agglomeration born from time at home,
to designate the specimens I prize.

This entry was posted in Coronaverse, Poetry, Writing and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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