Tardigrade,
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
impenetrable,
indestructible.
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.
Isolated,
uncontaminated.
Wake me up when this is over.
………..
Karen Steiger is a poet, fiction writer, and future breast cancer survivor living in Schaumburg, Illinois, with her beloved husband, Matt, and two retired racing greyhounds, Giza and Horus. She is the founder of her poetry blog, The Midlife Crisis Poet (www.themidlifecrisispoet.com), and her work has been published in The Wells Street Journal, Arsenika, The Pangolin Review, Leading Edge Magazine, and Black Bough Poetry. Her poetry will also appear in a future edition of Kaleidotrope and Mineral Lit Mag.