Trapped Too Long Alone
A quarantine poem

Another day of staying home,
the sun has arced its course,
traversed the soaring blue-deep dome
with quarantine in force.
 
How was your day? What did you do?
The question seems to scold.
I ate, I walked, I tied my shoe;
the day and I grew old.
 
Without a job or task in line
or friends’ reflected gaze,
I cannot seem to self-define
my self has bled to haze.
 
In isolation’s empty hours
our steam-vents jam and groan.
The inner self erupts and cowers
when trapped too long alone.

Robin Wood

 
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Robin Wood <robin.everyday@gmail.com>would be pleased to hear them.