A product of reproduction number and serial time

whisk over

the abruptly deserted discourse

(prodding the masqued crowd)

whirling at the velocity of ten thousand jet engines, but without their thunder

instead, armed with deviant protein

—that sneak—

high-intensity-lensed response lags behind
panic battering prodromes

the      isolation     of   a          planet

while batty coil—
(brings ground-glass opacities to exigent breath)


This poem was published as part of a series in a special issue, The Great Pause, of Press Pause Press.

Andy Oram
February 14, 2020

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