Theft in the Time of Corona

Theft in the Time of Corona - with Aakriti Kuntal (thanks)

Helpless in the tide from
the oceans of my mind
where the homeless trudge
back to nowhere, trepanned
the blood roaring in my ears

The waves wash up the bodies of the children, tattooed
By death

I steal
away from the images
crowding
inside
to resemble
the living dead

The river, at another bend
grows drinkable
and swallows swoop
on the red sunset
to peck out its heart
as if echoing the dreams
and cries of the mute
who will never know, now
crisis again
resting in the arms of the ones
who went on ahead
have permanently slept
free of the scouring dis-ease
of life.

My mind
of jungled Apolemia too
longs, not for peace but rest.