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
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