There’s the matter of not enough beds
A shortage of where to lay our misery and
dreams bred in delirium
There’s the matter of not enough ventilators
A shortage of oxygen for our lungs
swimming in phlegm and each inhale
a crucifixion
There’s the matter of social distance
The Milky Way and Andromeda with their
countless stars appear so close, but the
separation is light years
There’s the matter of light years
An oxymoron for nearly six trillion
miles speeding through the dark
vacuum of space
There’s the matter of stars
Each has a name and a story
like the Pleiades, a star cluster of
seven sisters
This is the way now
An immeasurable anaphora for
sleep and air and stars
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