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
rapid
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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