 |
| Photo by Ketut Subiyanto from Pexels |
The sound of the saddening sight
of people claiming squares
on sidewalks, while people are hoarding
squares of toilet paper
some, smoking whole boxes of squares
with no cares, of the virus
carried in the air.
The sound of the hopeless sight
of the homeless
sprawled about, waiting in long lines
to use the restroom, with no rest
not knowing what will transpire from the virus
while closely watching their belongings,
piled in the square that they claimed.
The sound of hope,
banging pots and pans,
checking census boxes,
unemployment boxes,
where’s my stimulus payment, boxes
tracking home essential boxes,
standing in boxes
outlined for social distancing,
staring at cell phones,
laptops,
kindles,
tablets,
television,
quarantined.
Who’s boxed in!
Boxed in!
Who’s boxed in!
Another poem to read: Quarantined
No comments:
Post a Comment