Monday, July 13, 2020

day TWELVE HUNDRED and SEVENTY THREE

Covid Glimpses

Plagued by virus fears
Driven by scarce resources
Workers never stop

Construction cranes turn
Skyscrapers adding stories
Rising with the dawn

She sews masks and gowns
To aid nurses and doctors
Helpers in peril

Home meal delivery
For vulnerable elders
Contactless giving

Driving at midnight
Speeding down rainy highways
Longing to go home

Ambulance siren
Outshouted by house parties
Whistling past graveyards

No graveside meetings
Follow online funerals
Virtual candles

Arriving at last
Patient needs intubation
But waits for a room

No time to delay
As more rescue calls come in
E M Ts must go

Another shift ends
Some patients have been rescued
Some didn’t make it

Searching for a cure
Years ahead, needed in hours
Distant horizon

--Maria DePaul

Maria DePaul is a Washington, DC-based writer, whose poetry has been featured in many publications, most recently Haiku Journal, Illumen, Plum Tree Tavern, Scifaikuest, and Wax Poetry and Art.

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