Two weeks after the month ended,
I realized I had not flipped the calendar
page over to the next month.
One month blending into another.
its thirty-one days added on to April,
then, another thirty when June rolls around,
continuing the unending spin,
an endless loop, until that day
when the pandemic finally ends.
I sit in my cocoon
waiting to breakout
and spread my wings again.
Duane Anderson currently lives in La Vista, NE, and volunteers with a non-profit organization as a Donor Ambassador on their blood drives. He has had poems published in The Pangolin Review, Fine Lines, The Sea Letter, Cholla Needles, Tipton Poetry Journal, Adelaide Literary Magazine and several other publications.