The Covid Lid
Updated: Jan 3
Masked, half hid
Under raised hoodie and Covid lid
I walk to work on my path,
Doing the math
Of how many will die,
No matter how hard we try
To avoid the disease
Lurking in a sneeze
Lingering in the breeze;
To avoid the dearth
of mirth
On our earth;
To avoid the void,
Feeling put out, annoyed;
To avoid touching any being
While embracing being seen
By other people via screen
Talking about how they pass the time
Until the bells of evening chime.
To avoid thoughts of the casket and urn.
When will we ever learn?
We reap what we sow
Wherever we go,
there we are,
whether by foot, plane or car.
But we’re going nowhere now,
Month’s pass. There’s rust on the plough.
Damn, we’re all damned to death
By a disease that’ll take our breath.
The annihilation
Of every nation
Through the inhalation
Of our expiration.
It’s so sinister
Yet somehow sublime.
Will we divine The Divine Minister,
Or will we just keep passing the time?
4/25/20
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