Monday, May 18, 2020

Poem During the Plague : Poem 44






Staying Home, Not Leaving

You stay in
until the bath water
is room temperature,
no more soothing than anything
else that’s wet.

You make meals
using up ingredients
you have,
eating no name dinners
mostly in the color of brown.

No quick baths.
No quick meals.
No quick trips to anywhere.

You’re home,
because you’re old,
no longer essential,
if you ever were.
You have heat, hot water,
internet access,
and a working smart phone.

There’s a virus out there,
but you’re in no immediate danger.
You’re no refugee;
you know having
to stay home
is better than having
to leave.


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