​It seems to me
​the virus is an ancient god.
​Keeping everyone awake
​and wearing pajamas.
​Sickness and foreheads wet.
No kissing, before
or after lunch.
Even the words of the poets,
moulded into pliable meanings.
And of the cheerful air?
There is a realm,
in which to remember.
A place, to learn again.
Come, let’s go.

​