Photo by Mario Rodriguez on Unsplash

 The extenuation of time into rhyme
 The devil’s in the detail 
 A confusion of contusions, a microbial illusion,
 A stretching out of meaning so that
 As soon as sad-so-sad covid rears its ugly head
 A crying game ensues, tears shed
 Mood into an Aztec-under-the-volcano
 Cacophony of rumblings of stars, bowels,
 Owls’ uncertain stutterings of an undisguised
 Conceit. Reckoning everything under heaven
 Is calculable, neat, discrete. Mescaline begs
 Us to differ. We must suffer the agonies
 Of defeat. Throw off the mantle of disguise
 Open our eyes to all the frail beauties of the world.