A Room of My Own: The Toll

One Hundred Eighty-Second Entry, Coronavirus Poetry Diary

written in response to America's half a million Covid deaths 

"We often hear people described as ordinary Americans. There's nothing ordinary about them." With a moment's pause for reflection, the President continues, "The people we lost were extraordinary. They span generations. Born in America, emigrated to America."

the flags

flying at half-mast

for five days

the White House 

lit by candles

Television light flickers on a wrinkled face. "So many of these extraordinary Americans took their final breath alone." His voice is scarcely above a whisper. 

the number

on the TV screen

in bold red

he stares into the future

from his nursing home window