Coronavirus XX

A kite high in the
sky above the dark blue bay.
It thrums and displays

a bright, clean spectrum
of primary colors. They
thrum like a drunk bee.

It is very high, the
string is long. For a while it
holds our attention.

we describe what we can’t know.
It makes us human.

Coronavirus XIX

In a patch of sun-
light down by the water two
geese and a dark duck.

I’m glad to see them.
Coronavirus harvests
the world of humans

continuously. I
don’t get too close to the geese
who stretch their long white

necks and give alarm.
An awful bleating. The duck
observes my retreat.

Coronavirus XVIII

Up from the whitecaps
in the wind and rain the cries
of the gulls and then

their bodies also.
I mistake them for foam flakes.
How many of us

will succumb to the
coronavirus, go un-
der the dark wave? Not

to be kissed again?
Countless, countless—-but grieve on
in the wind and rain.

Coronavirus XVII

Ducks ride from the top
of the wave to the bottom
over and over

they seem built for it
with you coronavirus
there is no place to hide

at the top or the
bottom you are the human
looking straight through me

Coronavirus XVI

Is it old age or
the coronavirus that
makes my mind hover

over uncertainties
like an orchestra at a
fermata? Please hold

the delicacy
of our first kiss at the door
a shade longer, thanks.

Coronavirus XV

From a bench I watch
ducks bob in the sunny bay
under cloud bellies.

Black bits and white bits
flash randomly together.
The sight of it saves

this hour from the rest
coronavirus preserves
from fellow feeling.

No greater proof need
I than this of the beauty
of the fertile void.

Coronavirus XIV

A raw day, but here’s
a border of daffodils at
the edge of the bay.

Sinking docks, weathered-
grey houses, I mightcould be
quite happy living

and dying here. There
goes the calm of my daily

You never know what you will
know walking around.