quarantine blues

i’ve discovered

no one

54 years

are almost tolling a bell’s furious head

a birthday cake in all its

autumnal fading

ideas ferment plagiarism

yet pretend fresh bones

same sky sketches

same breath resides the bored lung

that wreathed hand

almost of soot

and

broken branches

reaching

there’s a gasp that

knows its last

sighs were never built to

overcome those charcoal incoming mountains

these shadows are too vast and clumsy who

they kill

i’ve ached past tuesday

and tomorrow purrs stale

which exit am i administered to

it sure won’t be painless