This world, that world, meld —
No barrier detected:
Divine presence speaks.
Good Friday be like
Corona comin’ for you.
Where, death, is your sting?
Malicious gales blow
Through the heart of Manhattan,
Stealing untold breaths.
Plodding, plodding, drag.
Drudgery of quarantine.
Slogging, slogging, sag.
whimsical winsome
April wafts, waltzes onto
brassy COVID’s stage
Fill my jiaozi lungs
With stuffed breath, lamb, beef, and spice
Nourishing air, 吃 (chi: eat)