The Silence Still Talks
Confined to a tiny apartment
terrified of a viral threat
she rocks in her chair listening
to voices in the corridor
Who is going out?
To voices in the street
Who are they? Are they infected?
She turned off the TV months ago
when depression became too much to bear.
In the silence she waits
for the danger to pass
listening to the constant
chatter of her mind.
Through tears she writes to loved ones
Between crazed sentences she wishes them well
“Perhaps” she says, “we’ll meet again at Christmas.”