by Harold Oberman
I want to sit here and breathe my own air;
My den is my paper panic attack bag—
Rational fears.
Remind me next pandemic to ostrich cliche
Deep enough to fill my head with sand,
Deep enough to avoid CDC science,
So deep I’ll run the savanna
When I emerge, oblivious to predators.
Now they’re forcing us out,
Opening up.
A trial here, a meeting there,
Left behind if you don’t attend.
Just out of their eggs
Join the trail of tiny sea turtles
Trying to make it to the sea.
Harold Oberman is a poet and lawyer trying make a living, and live, in Charleston, S.C.
