Wednesday, April 22, 2020


Republished on Pandemic.

water bear,
moss piglet.
Tiny little hands and feet
on microscopic limbs,
searching for algae
to suck up with its vacuum mouth
into its translucent body.
When the world ends,
it curls up in a ball,
unknowing but
I don’t know what it dreams of,
but it awakes unfazed
by the ice storms and the drought
and the emptiness of space.
Just like quarantine naps
on a stained microsuede couch.
The empty can of pizza-flavored Pringles
lies on its side on the floor,
just out of my reach.
I draw my knees up,
put my glasses up for safety.
Wake me up when this is over.

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