ANNIHILATION

Hours pass, minutes contained,
seconds lapse.
Grocery stores shelves bare
and zapped.
Disguised we mask ourselves
in fabric shields
as we roam the aisles.
No ventilation.

Oven toasted corn bread
thickened with dried cranberries
wafting our senses through oven doors at home,
stirring our emptiness and hunger.

Beating rain falls ceaselessly
on roof's wood cedar shingles.
Memories blurred in wet illusions
disturbing the solitude of confinement.
Cherry blossoms weep their soft pink petals
like watered-down blood spraying
on code-green.
For the world's seeds,
buried in stark dark patches,
alone and lonely,
we wait for reconciliation.