Trespassing Virus
Pious observation
of my private property
ought to keep it
beyond the sign
'all strangers are welcome'
which was put on in
four languages before
the rampage.
Does it speak English
and should I try sign language?
Drifting further from my mind,
desperate, out of breath, is
the sign of God that pointed me
to the righteous path, lost
in the fog of moment, the
labyrinthine disconnections
and the void in between.
Tonight my faith is
sleeping alone, yet something
is grabbing its attention,
my need to keep it close
something warm to grab
and keep going with
my epic struggle to put up
a new sign on my lawn:
Coronavirus Not Welcome.
Fugitive thoughts cancel out
fear.
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