by Avalon Felice Lee
In the beginning…
January judgment
Red hat, white lies
"The flu is worse!" he scorns
as his gavel cudgels China, the blue-faced, the blue-lunged
The pen of law
holds the ink for healthcare blueprints.
The dough in his fist
for swab tests; for the people.
February denial
Nailed wrists, or tied hands?
Our savior, or an excuse?
Americans,
repent!
Beware of
Nothing to worry about! Nothing at all!
Come to the altar, worship whoever’s crowned
The winged choir guard the American garden
from Wuhan fiends
And so, nib unscathed
Pockets heavy
The Gospel
Good thing he cares for his shares
The yeast for His bread
unrisen, decayed
So, He Marches forward
And trumpets that “the numbers are good” as is
apparently
contrarily
But April showers make faith dour.
Just in case, behind Jericho bricks
He breaks bread
for swab tests; for His people
crumbs
Oh, you sinner
Cast doubt from your mind!
May you rejoice!
The Savior saves His people!
Good thing he cares for his shares.
Revelation
Though idols dine in violet silk, one day
the synthetic dye will blanch
Dress in your Sunday best, filter masks
Earth will soon steal the recipe for
manna
Sacrifice pedestrian beer
for communion wine, Purell
June bugs, heathens, see the sunup
The world ends not with a virus!
(But by the folly of man.)
Avalon Felice Lee is an Asian-American Californian. She has been writing poetry and prose since the age of eleven. Her works have been published in The Heritage Review, Kalopsia Literary Journal, and elsewhere.
