Personal

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