The Occasional War (COVID the second time) Feb. 10, 2023

sickly old me

bundled under a winter sun

sipping tea

for a sore throat

my nose drips

exactly like tears would

as if sickness is

a sadness too

as if the body

mourns itself

and the flowers

it can’t smell

but I sense a force rising

shriveled as my position is

hunched in this chair

in the core of my being

flashes from gun barrels

the sound of boots advancing

this is my army

in the occasional war

of taking no prisoners