your alarm is set
wait 
i don't need this

undergrad 
done
now what is next

sprawled out 
on my bed
guess I'll work from "home"

quarantine,
all the days
blending together

walk to work
I put on my mask
hoping it covers fear on my face

a crowd in the store
quickly separated
by one sneeze . . .

buzz cut
the one style
her mother knows

lights low
family movie night
again

shifting the furniture
she rearranges
her life . . . again

grocery shopping
from the aisle next to me
a cough

front porch
a little taste
of the outside world

we leave campus
unable to hug
an incomplete goodbye

bottle coveted
in a paper bag
hand sanitizer

not a human in sight
the trees feel free
to dance

lilac floats through the air
i think of you
how you like them too

graduation
I cross the threshold
of my bedroom

stop!
don’t step there
this is my Covid square

zoom
the cars fly by
online classes outside

slowly but surely
the distance between us
shrinking

running out of seasons
on Netflix
and emotions

is it
groundhog day?
not as fun as it seemed

ten people in
now switch . . .
funeral

we hope
we wait
for normal life again

masked mouth
your eyes
tell a story

service tip
delivering curb side pick
handing a bag through a car window

it can’t survive extreme heat
I heard . . .
who knows what to believe anymore

trapped
invisible bars
I’ve done nothing

work
they scan my forehead
98.3 . . . all clear

blue gloves,
blue mask,
goggles hug me

I never realized
how much I value
being able to leave

the coronavirus . . .
quiet walk
and no traffic

wishing the word
“pandemic”
meant something else

after lunch
I smell the barbeque
under my mask

going tanning—
we take our chairs
to the backyard

no shoes
no shirt . . .
no mask, no service

stuck in the house
gaining weight
not money

zooming everywhere
except for in
the car

sunburnt cheek
through the window
of my car

social distancing
but
people are still dying from a distance.

another day
staring through the unwashed window
the border between us

Lysol—
everywhere
but Walmart

May 1
oops
here we go again

from afar
a wave
appears as a hug

it’s been two months
I ask
if I can hug you

her mask
freckled with bumble bees.
understudy for a smile

social distancing
I can’t do it
alone

masking her expression—
green cotton
and dasies

bare room
bare house—
tears drops on the wood floor

making my bed
washing my face—
a routine for quarantine

breaking the rules . . . my mom squeezes me tight

the sun kisses her awake
another day
inside

April turns to July 
wondering
how long will this last 

moving in
with my best friends
too good to be true

fresh out of college
not where 
I thought I'd be

ending school
I wonder how
summer is going to end!

quarantine
a line of ants
on my door

in the school yard
alone a tree
Covid-19

collar and leash
I walk my dog
this is getting old . . .

I wake up
heart beating
it wasn’t a bad dream

I sit outside
to people watch
no one in sight