here is a poem for a friend and deadline missed—

inspired by a hurricane and heartache sweeping through the week, neither less deadly because announced—

all amid a virus and head of state threatening the nation with fever and shortness of breath—

preceded even earlier by warnings like vowels clearly sounded out— crackling forests and firecrackers a drought of rain and new ideas— so to kill the time and not ourselves


play piano and video games watch television and the seasons change drink wine and the doom-filled streams—

hoping we can remember our dreams when we wake up in a new bed in a new year under a new roof— the same old constellations.