Day 24: Fumigation

The insidious drone of life

can be heard even from the little

shells we live in

our homes are merely tessellated

egg cartons that collect puddles

and sog up when it rains.


It makes you peer out of your windows with distaste

searching void decks and obscure corners

of a familiar landscape

but you can never see it coming as the white

haze rises up in opacity


clawing at your face

your façade


So we shut and retreat

even though the haze seeps

into our privileged protection.

The tiny mosquitos outside join the drone

with frenzied wing-beats and miniscule

spasming lungs

while the big ones, us,

shut our windows

and die a little more inside.


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