COV(ERT)19

o-CHRIS-900

stalkers arrive when the blood is thin
when our rivers are undamned and banks flooded
arrive when our bodies are beautifully colored
and the jailed up is under control

they are small like white lies,
like open secrets with mysterious origins
we might never know who gives birth
to a murderer

they are flesh-eaters who covet
crave to devour, who stalk and hide
go unannounced and conceal discreetly
in tucked away places waiting for opportune times

they are heavy-breathing like dragons
who char the air of our lungs with fear

phantasms in the night
molesting the innocence of our disbelief in monsters

in the market i am looking
hiding my face with a mask, disguised
hoping not to be found, but feeling
the inevitability of capture

i am cracking the door just a little
to see the other side, prayerful it will not be

i am recluse, agorophobic, am breathless
am looking out of windows at life

my stalker knows my name, address
and all the fine details that make me a living thing

my stalker is medusa made invisible
may catch me looking and turn me to stone

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