Letters

Health care workers ingest antiseptic air

They witness the tragedy of black bags

Encompassing death with frightful exhaustion.

Bodies drown in fluid-filled lungs

As lethal mucus replaces healthy oxygen.

Families huddle into sequestered confines

In pod-contained homes of quarantine.

The virus shoots invisible bullets of

Disease and devastation

Decimating societies as though a century ago.

Masks function as disposable barricades

Intercepting airborne particles of space-high sputum.

Anxiety reigns as the ruling class of emotions

As dwellers quiver in anticipation of inoculations.

People pay homage to previous-generation survivors

Providing papers citing enhanced age or medical condition.

COVID survivors succumb to pleas of guilt

For negotiation of facts or ability to hide.

They confess their game

To admit their blame.

Their blood boils and their hearts beat

Toward a relinquishing of solitude and isolation.

Their souls pray for a future

Crystallized by sprinkles of shared treats

Topped with syrupy smiles of blissful frolic and reconnection.

Just then, President Biden promises July 4th celebrations

If we wear our masks and get our vaccinations.

For neighborhood and backyard cookouts and BBQs,

Then ice cream, Popsicles, s’mores, and fireworks, too.

Shari Adler

Southampton and New York City