March 31, 2020- Wednesday morning in Chicago


there were no sirens

no practice drill

to ready us for this

like the vapid teen in the slasher film

another fool swaggers out

into the village taunting the threat

unaware he’s brought the killer home

where it will steal the breath

from his mother’s mother

here- north of the world

in this small village

we don’t feel the cold punch of truth

the city dwellers face

here- we can still pretend there is a place

called “Over There”

where that thing happened one spring

we can still imagine

summer waiting

fresh and clear and lush

with night blooming jasmine

and sweet hammock dreams

on a hot August night

and we are all, still, immortal

in our bathroom mirrors

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