Lockdown

Just when we were readying ourselves to fly 
Calamity coveted corner and crowd 
A world wind flu blown across borders 
Battling a curse of bats betrayal 
Conspiracy on wings contagious in flight 
Courting countertops surfaces we handle 
Wrist turns knobs everyday fingers face doors 
To towns infectious as our cellular phones 
In search of a holy host for coronation 
We remain inside like isolated islands 
Continents in tattered tears counting up the dead 
Ghosts and gangsters fled the dreaded streets surreal 
The traffic of profit and loss lockdown at home 
There is a sober silence to the evening sun 
All parties public private on a peaceful pause 
From priest to poppet practice social distance 
Without handshakes and hugs the mask becomes a friend 
Quarantined desires anxious and expectant 
Weigh in on curve and curfew wash and wait 

April 2020