Flatlining

People ask how this yearlong will come to pass, of which parts are the triumphs and stench of learning... of why blossoms drop on cobblestones ravaged by a wildfire tearing velvet buds, flatlining: the male stamen and female pistil barren from incessant drought. And why of all things, must god-children endure anxieties trapped in houses yearning to grasp a firefly on the lane, to hug grandparents, not from a distance but...but in the flesh of every day-- Add into this equation an insatiable need for human connection where friends, kin gather like a warm herd exchanging intimacies skin to skin, mouth on mouth, arm in arm--- This is limbo within the inferno of the living, while Pilates from urban jungles rinse their hands absolving themselves from mortal sins... an epoch of how time's pleasure or pus could pass. Craig Cornish's 2020 Contest 5/23/2020