Covid, covid, covid, corvus, don’t
touch a face, even your own.
I last shook hands in March
then washed with harsh soap
Covid, covid, covid, corvus, fear
the breath of others, even Ruah.
We enter stores masked like a thief
to rob the virus, not the owner.
Covid, covid, covid, corvus, accept
two meters as the new social distance,
stop roosting like happy crows in bars
and ball parks, isolate in place,
But don’t confuse the virus with its host
or after covid we will never close the distance.
— Daniel Branch
• The Capital City Weekly accepts submissions of poetry, fiction and nonfiction for Writers’ Weir. To submit a piece for consideration, email us at email@example.com.