Spring Monsoon

We're number one!
Flag-waving champions blown to shreds in the March winds
Blowing players off the board game, our turn has come
Up to bat, bases full, pandemic epicenter, invoking useless authoritarian powers
Trading one loss for the other
They make us think in the language of war
Invisible enemy growing stronger in the unknown, untestable
Like a Pacific typhoon grown preeminent
Our lungs are the target, organ of grief and of metal
Collective imbalances, expressed in microbic mushroom spores of sadness blowing
Slowing down together, a global chrysalis of shared personal introspection
On what is essential after all
Transforming this communal lamentation into something more

Take the dog for one last walk
While dark clouds collect on the neighborhood periphery
A known presence, Biblical plague,
With what do you paint the frame of your door?
Lock the shutters its starting to pour
Contaminated tears from the Atlantic
Tsunami rolling  quickly from the East
NYC, Detroit, all along the Mississippi
Coming from the Western California cities
Two tides from both sides run for the Rockies like a refugee
We are all asylum seekers now

Governors in their mansions race for time and hoard supplies
From each other like the shoppers in the stores
While the Big Apple rots by the sea abandoned
We ride out the hurricane with windows shattering, leaking
Flooded floors, whistling sirens in the cracks
Huddle together on the sofa trying to sleep
Find a little peace in the turbulent night

Wake up to discern
The typhoon hatched into a Spring monsoon