• Corona Chronicle,  Poetry

    “Danger” with Artwork by Sally Doyle

    Underneath  this room  is danger.  You can  feel it  when you walk  across  the
    floor.  This evening you feel it as you  sit in your  small chair reading.  But still
    you  cannot  name it.  The other  members  of  your family who are  staring at
    their phones  don’t appear  to be concerned at all.  You stop  reading  to listen,
    and rumination turns into trance. Right at the moment when you are thinking,
    “Someone has been abandoned,” a woman wearing a surgical mask enters the
    room.