— After Edward Hopper Intermission 1963
Isolation
Before the birth of the pandemic
I have known you.
You
Come easier to those
Bereaved.
With the death of my son
You came to sit with me
While people once friends
Crossed roads
To avoid becoming infected
With my sadness
My falling apart
The tears that escaped any mask
That I tried to wear.
Isolation
You grew to fit around me
As colleagues turned their heads
Drew up their collars
Hooded their eyes
And huddled around distant coffee tables.
You were the place to be.
Isolated
I take the time now
An intermission of sorts
A space between the beginning
And the end.
Enveloped by grey unyielding misery
I replay the memories of my son
The movie of our brief life
That we shared together.
Before the pandemic.
Isolation
I already knew the rules.
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