Day ??? (a poem)

I am so tired of covid poems—so here is another one…

The tense wires and indistinct flutters
erase days from the calendar

Its page is still opened to March
before the topsy-turvy turned America
into the land of the empty streets
with homes full of the tipsy

The one on the end table
is still on August 21st
(days stopped advancing
not long after
in that small corner of time)

The future is filled with probabilities
and no small measure of uncertainty

What was unknown before
is unknown a few degrees more
and with the world
seemingly frozen in place
it may be a while
before I get to see another face
below eye level

In this time
in this space
in this place
the wires will have to go slack
and the flutters flatten

The calendar page is so yesterday

(23 May 2020)

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