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Quinn Clearwater
Coronavirus
The virus
Flows in my veins
Much like the mold
That used to fill the air
Of my first apartment
I can smell it now
In the dim light
Thru the windowpane
At noon
And the hasty move
When things got bad
The hopeless feeling
Wet on my skin
From droplets of a rainy March
And the strength it took
To be frozen in place
Like the fragment of my soul
That still remains back there
Waiting for me to return and pick up the pieces
Of that old life.
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