Annus Horribilis

Human intercourse ended
Late twenty-nineteen
With me (on Zoom) sipping ovaltine –
Masked, gloved, all plans amended
And fourteen days in quarantine.

Up to then there'd only been
An awkward sort of hug,
A caress met with a shrug,
Faire la bise? (she wasn't keen)
Not on this ugly mug.

Then all at once, that virus bit:
The whole world turned to stone,
She found herself alone
Coughing, gagging, sweat and spit,
Then, chilled nastily to the bone.

So life was never better than
Early twenty-nineteen
Together, in-person, somewhat keen
Before conversation was completely banned
And I spent two weeks in quarantine.

h. k. c. (june, 2021)