Quarantine

Your silence is loud when you hide in mask You are not aloof Though in small den like abode Where a pillow, bedsheet and a cup Converse axioms of realms outside. But inside, your battleground thrives, Swords several, to sever heads in succession: moments falter, thoughts scatter, wavered eerie. Roaches look for rendezvous; Receive me as guest, spiders dance on soft ropes to amuse; Termites speak out tales laden with grand grandma's memories; Hands both alternate pillows; water jug, a lizard's globe Music of the clock tiptoes in pain breaking silent notes of unvent tears. Let me reach for my blanket Listening to the knock on my door At the time of supper in plate Do something at least: Open my mouth, and gobble As if the lonely song sung astray. ................................