When the quarantine ends
I hope to escape this digital cocoon,
that we all emerge from our homes
like cicadas breaking free of their husks,
glistening green and new in our doorways,
eyes squinting against the brightness
of a sun no curtain could ever contain.
I hope to escape the digital dream
that’s held me entranced, entrenched
in the cyclical music of spoons
tapping against the sugar jar,
to taste the hints of honeysuckle and rose
on the unfiltered air, to sneeze
and not feel ashamed.
I hope to escape the prison of my mind,
the repetition like a mantra
that everything will be okay
or everything will be the opposite of okay,
where my thoughts can float free
as feathers loosed from the seams
of pillows heavy with sleeping heads.
I hope to escape my addiction
to car wrecks, to fistfights, to the fraying of rope,
watching newborns dangle and scream
above the yawning abyss by a thread,
I want to see my neighbor across the street
and for what will seem like the first time,
I want to start walking, to smile, to say hello.
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