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