so all alone

Between the hours of five and six
on just another day that ends in "y"
the numbers swelled above 50, 000
in the age of corona virus.

on the air, there were talking heads
and much nonsense, and while few made smiles,
they were most comic.
The deaths counter rolled upward while
a company sold soap, a school sold futures,
and a pharmaceutical practiced medical heresy.

And in the minutes while the world whirled on
with its noise and new car deals,
scores more died [away from the senseless sounds my heart drifts
to the places where this thing exists]-- where they fade
Alone, alone, so all alone; alone on a ventilator.

Today we wear it, but I think
someday the curse will cease.
Perhaps we will learn and perhaps we will thrive
but there will many fewer alive to speak of these days.

There will be a time in the stillness and darkness of sleep
to atone for these heartless ways.
We will not be able to turn away.

So many goodbyes, wet eyes staring into
memories of love, with no one near
no one to hear last words.

while their faces will fill the dreams of the Angels of care,
and chase the peace of loved ones not allowed to be there;
the rest of us will wonder, did we care
so little for life or love.

Love in the Time of CV

I did not take down the Christmas tree;
it sparkles now in the warm April night
when my mood is mercurial like spring days.
It began in sunshine and ended in thunders and chill.
And the sparkling lights that trim the windows
and adorn the faux rafters are emblems
of a way of life that may never come again.

This morning, I had a dream, and
I laughed into a warm awakening.
Was you Sister Dear, come to talk in my dreams
as if you knew how much i missed you.
And i spoke to you about the plague;
we fell into laughter when i said:
they'd need a crew of strong men
to haul you out to the hospital care.

My belly heaved as we shared a joy
born of my love and yours,
of the fact that there is no part of my heart
that does not belong to you.

As my eyes slit to open onto
my New Life and her wide blue eyes.
She stared quizzically and smiled
that I would wake in laughter. Love
in the age of virus is a precious and grudging thing.

And so it was, on this hard day,
you Sister Dear touched me softly.
Not as a memory, but like the warming sun
from distance a gentle kiss on my cheek
a longed-for precursor that marked
the trail of a happy tear.