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| Paxlovid and Simic |
The snow turns into rain.
Buds thicken the woods,
A ruddy mist
Against rain-blackened trunks
Seen through the kitchen panes
In my fourth day of isolation,
Differing from my solitude
of the last ten years
only by the recommendation
of the Center for Disease Control
and the three big pills I swallow
morning and night for five days
under Emergency Use Authorization.
The wind picks up.
I read. I wind the pendulum clock.
I tell myself I'm feeling better.
The medallion swings behind etched glass,
The ratchet wheel releasing one tooth at a time,
Escapement and detent saying,
Love me, love me, love me, love me.
The cough has stopped.
The spring winds down.
The rain turns back to snow.
