Poetry

Dispatch #012

iRobot Again

By Aqueila M. Lewis-Ross
 
Beep! Beep!
Powering Up!
Powering Down!
Beep! Beep!
 
You're only allowed 6ft!
The command to practice social-distancing.
You must shelter-in-place!
Because touching anything might be the end of the race.
 
I risk it all to see my baby laugh and play at the neighborhood park. 
But even parks are banned.
So we peek behind the curtains to see who's out.
 
We extroverts practice a new indoor sport creating schedules to have a valid routine.
I watch her scatter her toys over wooden floors. 
And that's ok!
 
I wonder if God whispered to the birds the secret. 
 
I wasn't taught how to love from afar.
I wasn't taught how to love at all.
So I remain stuck in desire.
Longing to defy gravity.
Longing to do what must be done.
 
This closing in isn't good for all: 
Those beaten black & blue. 
Some babies need space to grow away from the perps.
There isn't enough hand sanitizer, lotions, and blushes to cover sin thrice removed.
And they can't call 911 cuz there's not enough medical supplies to save us all.
 
Who can save us?
GOD PLEASE SAVE US!
WILL YOU SAVE US?
 
We are rotten!
We've ruined our world and she's dying!
The levees can't hold the tears anymore!
 
Let the enslaved be free!
Beep. 
Beep. 
Beep………………………..

March 28, 2020

Categories: Poetry, shelter-in-place

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