• Corona Chronicle,  Poetry

    “Quarantine” by Rimas Uzgiris

    April 19, 2020 /
    By day we count like clocks the dust motes
    And wait for the hour of maximum sun
    When the forest folds us in

    Like the first morning, Eve yet to meet a snake.

    The passage back is through the cemetery
    Haunted by the occasional human
    Shuffling from grave to grave,

    Pottering with plants and sloughed pine.

    We park ourselves before electric iridescence
    Trying to feel our way towards a future:
    Seeing only fear and desire and no Eightfold Path,
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