Pandemic Poetry

Have I felt so hungry
before for words--
I cannot say.

Usually words come so easy,
but now, we do all things
so UNusually.

My poet is quiet.
I think she is
still just listening.

A bad dream,
A sci-fi movie
has become my surreal
reality.

Alright.  Fine.
ENOUGH.
When is this show over?
How much longer can
the madness last?

Hunkered down, bunkered in—
but it isn’t enough.
Covid walked right under
my roof.