Four Twenty Twenty. A poem by Capella Parrish

Your unknown face is my Nation mourning
I know what the dead look like
The living who shall soon die, alone
Motherless children, lonely dogs

The Virus picks at random
As I age I get closer to his grasp
Sticky in his fingers
Deep and tight
As I breathe I feel him linger
Just when I thought I was lost, I was let go
I tumbled out of the cold metal claw

My brain is numb and my body rattled.
I feel sunburned in my soul.
Heavy with the Grim.
Who lives, who dies?
Death’s door opens

Books I wanted so desperately to read collect dust
I vow to quit drinking and wearing makeup
My body grows hair and I forget to brush and floss
The anxiety that gripped me for 3 weeks
Begins to let go.

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