We are strangers
carrying death notes in our teeth,
warding off the evils of a rampant virus.

Two meters and a galaxy apart,
be sure not to speak,
not to breathe,
not to cry.

behind his mask
he is an open hand
sunlight filling a cold room
laughter first thing in the morning

behind my mask
i am an isolation tank
a storm inside an enforced shelter
chaos in the eye of a bomb

We are strangers,
choking on a new strain of fear,
a cracked marble lodged in the throat.
I have forgotten how to speak,
how to breathe,
how to cry.