my metropolitan is infectious disease on the sleeves of busybodies the five o’clock streets are beat from the beast of thousand feet repeated five times a week, same path same worn down wrath but now the infectious fist swings a k/o going on, some walked into but the streets are quieter the stomping slowed though infection grows shudders steel cages stockpiles rage at the park at the store, at the lakeshore “for your own good, isolate and wait a few weeks” don’t speak you don’t know what your words may carry the weak stumble alone, stay very heated, sweating round in with infection, with virus, little means of detection except for the gut full of bacteria that knows what’s what and we see the busy city fighting back dazzled and confused, clobbered from the attack |
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AuthorCorrie Thompson is a writer, blogger, avid reader, and photographer. Follow her poetry on instagram: @mis.underwood Archives
July 2023
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