My Poetry: Past My Quarantine Window

The black ribbon, cracked and cauterized, carries them like thirst. mouth to throat.

Hungry water, they trawl strollers, dogs, bags of to-go food, flimsy face masks

clutches of mail toward the mouth. They are soft as water, lifting from the skin of the ribbon in ripples,

throat-thirsty, fever-flushed in the sun.







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