I expect
the day when
Poetry is no
longer forcefully
mulled
over
words,
when we commit
it
as of
us,
when we
reek
of it,
or rather
Poetry
reeks
of us,
not shunned or shunning by
the traps in
word-ings.
We Poets then
will truly spurt
and raise an elegy
off
the skin.

That one faithful day
libraries and others will shed
books,
letters and papers,
like finally autumn
leaves,
our chips into small
encasings
like pearls with shells
their.

And
those who choose us
on the shelves will
receive the reward
of our dragging
into
our depths like
persistent algae,
for
a while,
or forevermore.

And I’ll finally be
able to unveil to them:

“I am one of Poetry’s
revelations.”

For now/
pay the lyrical’s heed/
in its written ways/
by the respect of every/
blank space ending/
before each and every verse/
it brings/

Something mooore, for my soul,
Give me the buy, in your fancy store,
Give me the buy, hopefully, I can be mooor can make it feel mooor,
Poor craving soul, wants sraff, staff, staff,
Anything,

I want to buy in your store, something mooor,
Give me mooor, mooor, mooor, mooor,
buy and buy, mooor,  hopefully I can be mooor,
I can make it feel mooor,
So much hope For my soul,

Something to love, so, the next morning I can throw it away,
Looking to buy Moooooor, Happiness,
For my craving soul,

Somebody help me!

Get out my soul!
Out from your store!
Please?!
Close the store door!
I’ll pay you,

I’m daughtering in place and it’s a full time job.
I'm a posable figurine, like a Barbie for my mom.
She's been shopping in a frenzy, to fill the empty hours.
I think we have an Amazon truck dedicated to our house.
I needed another closet so we took my sister's room
It looks like a Dior outlet-store or maybe King Tut's tomb.
"I think you've gotten carried away," I said to her last night.
Looking at all the loot arranged, she said, "you may be right."

Jack and Jill went up to Lidl
To queue for toilet paper
Jack got bored and soon he snored
Jill's patience was much greater

Jill queued on and moved along
Until allowed to enter
She found a pack and on the way back
Kicked Jack with pent-up anger.

do you want anything
from the shops
she said
it used to be pizza and beer
nowadays just
you home safely
my love

Queuing -
When I was growing
it was second nature.
Then we got out the habit -
and started congregating and lingering,
vaguely hovering til the bus arrives
and then converging
with no reference to order
or deference to aging.
Or begrudgingly taking a number
and waiting our turn
til called forward, bringing us
out of our revelry.

It's different now.
Now we get there early,
expecting a wait, a line,
spaced out like it's leprosy
that we're suffering -
Like we're resisting
being associated with the others
who are queuing.

Shuffling.

Waiting.

And once arriving,
being begrudgingly admitted
by the high-viz guy who's masking,
and he's insisting
that our partner
has to wait outside
where it's freezing.

Now queuing
is our new necessity -
our communal normality.

Maybe it'll stick
and we'll be sticklers
for a queue that's orderly.

And maybe - just maybe
we'll find that the queues move
a little
more
quickly.

Tonight, let's take a respite from the kids, get all dressed up, and head for the local grocery store.

We can even wear matching masks, take turns pushing the cart, and steal Kisses from the candy aisle.

You're on top of my shopping list, little lady, along with the melons and a case of toilet paper.

It may not be dinner or a movie, but it has its own romantic aura of about six feet in diameter.

Take my gloved hand & let's dance away at the checkout line, mask-to-mask. It's love in the time of COVID-19.

Twirl and sidestep

Sidestep twirl

A solemn dance

Over the abyss

Among the tins

And the discount bread

Partners weave

From afar

Marking endless time

In measured silence

A six feet waltz

Of the newly ******