are we just bunkered up
beside our television sets
quarantined in our tombs?
are we but maggot food
served on viral platters?
we don’t have to go anywhere
this microbial apocalypse
will be delivered to ours doors
just like Moses did of old
I hear no wailing in the night
the streets are oppressed
in quiet apprehension
as the world settles into sleep
to dream perhaps eternally
not everyone shall see morning
some shall be taken in the night
and we shall mourn them
in the grey and silent dawn
No comments:
Post a Comment