Tier 4 Covid

By M.E. Muir

Variants swarm across the town
first infant grows wild
on granular mutations
morphs to the vicious thug
robbing tomorrow

penetration steps up aggression
no touching
lonesome isolation
sets a single knife and fork
waits for the postman

new strains transmit uncertainty
tiers of sadness
pile on Mount Ossa’s
sharpened peak
struggle to reach

the comfort of resignation
viral acceptance
a cruel wound
as future trickles sadly down
its lonely road.

Frankly being retired these days WFH is much as usual. I just miss seeing real people. Zoom is no substitute though I rather prefer the more chaotic Houseparty.

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