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Tuesday, May 05, 2020


by Dawn Corrigan

The diorama simulates the rising and setting points of the Sun. —Stanford University

Like sunrise, like hurricanes,
it moved east to west.

We feared it was coming
for that hole in your chest.

You said, Perhaps I should meet it
while there's still open beds.

But we made you a fortress
and hid you instead.

Author’s Note: This poem is a response to my immunocompromised husband, who suggested a couple of weeks ago that perhaps he should deliberately seek exposure to the virus before our local ICUs filled up. For now he remains safe and our local hospitals are below capacity, though with public beaches and restaurants reopening, I don't know if we can expect this state of stasis to last.

Dawn Corrigan has a black belt in social distancing.