at war

a short corona virus shelter-in-place free verse poem

Nowadays I wake up hoping for the unpredictable - the novel.

When I open my eyes the angel of death isn’t out to get me.

Then - I remember - we’re at war and practicing subterfuge -

that measured trade-off between safety and despair.

So I move to my patterned routines - I dust my unused lips.

I check the level of my virtuous thoughts - hhmm.. getting low.

And I prepare the clever inventions that allow us to simulate life.

Author's Note

all comments welcome