Week 1, Corona-tine

Learning to first drift, then hustle, then inhabit the house 
feeling cooped up but still making chirps and sometimes squawks, when tickled
wandering the neighborhood we learned someone owns a kit of pigeons, 
trained for racing but in this case simply circling the roof over and over

I inhabit the house and listen to the echoes of my youth
condensed soups, homemade iced tea, washing dishes by hand
Mom was always the dishwasher, so Grandma didn't need a machine
I think I am the dishwasher now by default

The jokes are bad, they come from the dads
we are dancing funny, trying not to get mad and then sad
stepping on each other's toes, having one last tennis match
running away from the house and then back, just to stretch our legs
each time we leave the house the sun renews us and the birds sing

I inhabit my body, hoping the shower washes off the malaise
remembering to breathe and laugh and cry
we are doing our best, we are not sick at all
just homesick for the vibrant people we used to be
and confused about what our lives will become

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