the loop

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on
the haze rolls in 
and laps at your ankles
like an unruly dog.

this is where time bends - 

edges and corners stretch
and fade into the ether,

strikingly blue

visible but out of reach. 

the days are a game
of catch and release

blindfolded interpretations
of sunsets and long walks
from the front door 
to the edge of the dead lawn.

the only tree
outside of your window
has shifted its weight.

the walls sigh and
you feel the house settle
around you as a tired mother

like your own body leans
into the quarantine loop. 

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