Quarantine Room

A poem about my battle with the coronavirus

Photo by Dan Visan on Unsplash

*Yes, I had the coronavirus. Here is a poem that I think encapsulates the fear and isolation of the experience.*

Dull bronze handle
white door cracked, peeling, wobbling,
iron rusted, broken against its hinges
I open and close and open

and close it again
click clack tack tick
the lock poking and prodding
in this grainy purple dark

Until morning light hovers in the window
blaring, shaping on the ceiling
where the heat of silence and sickness
steam in endless convection

and the cold of death sinks to the dirty rug
where I lay my feet
and squat on my knees
and pray to God

that one day I might escape

Musician, mountaineer, and writer for P.S. I Love You, The Junction, and others. If you’d like to learn more about me, you can visit www.andrewjacono.com

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