Deserted streets, checkpoints everywhere
birds return, the air is clear and fresh.
The city breathes again, the lockdown begins,
people quarantined in their homes
afraid to encounter an invisible enemy.

Corona stalks the streets, she has her way
mutates to cheat the seekers of a remedy
to the lethal evolution wrought by her.
She plays the numbers game better
than an economist, the stock market crashes,
companies go bankrupt, the mortality rate soars.
She is implacable.

Churches, mosques and temples are deserted
all prayer silenced not a whisper heard
as the living die a lonely death.
Corona gambles her numbers game,
she has her finger on the pulse of 102
year old woman who survives Corona’s
kiss of death. Why leave 102, but not 24
question the specialists, the virologists.
I choose the victim, not you
I am the catalyst to change the landscape,
the city will breathe again, birds chirp in the trees
while the lockdown begins and ends with me.