Email Poem

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Poem

I stepped off Sunday ready to get roaring with the week
though still isolated in flesh from the rest of the world.

The sun is shining, leaking its profound and hopeful ink
into my genie jar and I wonder when I will be able to escape.

What power will polish with a diamond-rough sleeve. I’ll blink
since it's been so long, suddenly rushing toward the waterfall.

The network of eyes will be disconcerting like a long off dream
where my body floated, counting, as I drifted into tonsillectomy.

Of fashion sense, we kindly compliment the pageantry of masks.
Our hair pulled back, stacked, or sized up with unpretentiousness.

After a week, we will do our due diligence, curbside, to bring smiles
to our patrons, though left unseen behind the automotive curtain.

Dreams back intact for those hungry for the feel and scent of pages.
Story upon story fed, the long-handled baby spoon comes with bib.

5/4/2020
Non-rhyming couplets

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