Corona Carnage

This pandemic

has taken peace

(however much of it we had)

and put in its place

a constant, unrelenting


— somehow shockingly swift

and sadistically slow —

creating a sort of global wartime,

that makes us yearn for

the things of comfort:

a mother’s embrace,

a lover’s touch,

a child’s messy kiss,

and corona,

this cruel, ironic burden,

has made those

the very weapons of its war.

(where do we find


when the war is in

our homes?)


We have been


for the run —

the race —

from the moment

our feet

hit the ground.

Now we must learn

how to rest

with no one

to teach us,

for it hasn’t


been done

in our

recorded history.