and in the dark
hoping that my emptiness
will both set me and tear me apart.
it is not sweet, but it is clean.
a harsh cleanliness only found in extremes.
and I wallow there, like a bird on a stone
watching his brother be cast down
I am afraid, I say.
afraid still
that in all this time I have yet to feel
may god bless you,
and god curse you
though I know he never will
I wrote this at the beginning of quarantine. The first in a series of three.
All rights are reserved by the writer, S. K. Anderson.