Hanging out within deluded shades of grim
indolent forebodings suggests this virus is
a winner once again - never was a chance
to best the beast - circumstance conspires
without a second glance and feasts in fine
concernment where distilled placidity once
used to be; presentiments devise excuses
best implied as unintended sacrifice
we ride a tide a-slew beneath a fallow bed,
dreading words unsaid of victims bled their
energy in need to tide it to a brutal end, as
yet unsure just who devised this cruelty or
why its deathly dance descries disdain
© 25 July 2014, I. D. Carswell
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