NaPoWriMo 2020: Postcards from the Pandemic - 5. Week Four

Postcard # 25 April 23, 2020

One drop of water in the ocean is

Insignificant

Yet

Causes ripples traveling miles away,

Giving hope for humanity

With the gift of a single mask.

Postcard #26 April 24, 2020

My BFF wanted to video chat,

So we spent an hour and a half catching up,

Sharing part of our day

And felt almost normal.

Postcard #27 April 25, 2020

The shower walls are closing in

Like a vice slowly turning to clamp

A piece of wood in place.

The water is too hot

Adding fuel to the fever

Instead of relaxing tense muscles

And cleansing sweaty skin.

The door is unattainable,

Besides,

Opening it while hot steam fills the small space

Will only set off the fire alarm

And add painful noise.

So deep breaths,

Rinse,

Dry

And

Repeat.

Postcard #28 April 26, 2020

The world has changed in the ten days

Since I last left the house.

Trees proudly display spring flowers

Bright pink and white

Flowers emerge from winter slumber,

Coloring the world with hope.

Postcard #29 April 27, 2020

The tent looks the same as last time,

Although now there’s a masked sentinel

Asking questions three before we may pass,

I’m slightly disappointed he doesn’t ask my favorite color.

Postcard #30 April 28, 2020

Allostatic Load

I have no energy for everything I ‘should’ be doing.

Reorganize the house.

Catalogue my collection.

Write a novel.

Instead,

I dream strange dreams,

Running from dinosaurs or plague rats.

Binge watch YouTube videos

And thaw soup I made two months ago.

And survive.

Postcard # 31 April 29, 2020

I know it’s Friday because Top Chef

Recorded last night.

My stomach grumbles, telling me lunch is

An hour overdue.

It’s still April, because my mortgage payment

Hasn’t hit my account yet.

I’m not sure it really matters what day it is.

They’re all the same.

Postcard #32 April 30, 2020

I had hoped my last postcard for the month

Would be profoundly different from the first.

I’d be back to work,

bitching about what stupid thing administration has done now,

And planning my next vacation.

Instead,

The penguin still keeps vigil from the kitchen window,

Wondering if anyone has noticed it.

I need a shower.

At least I’m wearing sweatpants instead of Christmas jammies.

The date for reopening is still nebulous

And I await results from testing,

Making everything real.