Opus June Fourteenth

The number’s Four Five Six: how many days
elapsed from house arrest to June Fifteen
of Twenty-one. We’re entering a phase
unmasked, with smaller distances between
ourselves and stranger/neighbors. What our ways
will be unknown, and whether nice or mean.
And will I still find grist to daily grind?
Or shall I leave this lockdown work behind?

(Ottava Rima)

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

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