Her caravan of crowns
circles Earth: feverish,
invisible, mute. Corona

Braids her garland, poised
to steal the breath from
our aged, smoking men.

A steady struggle to reach
these silent startling spirits,
the very Ones we have so

Long waited for: the belated
Ones. We begged to save
all the dying creatures we

Had extinguished, One-by-
One. Sharp newly woven
thorns adorn the crowns,

And let Corona enter
the eyes, nose, tongue
of restless humans.

They wander in mucous,
lungs, the dripping hearts,
slimy guts of our species.

Corona leaves hummingbird
to fly in the sudden spring of
clean wind, air. Birds join

Forests filled with trees
swaying in the dance
of freedom. Fish swim

Without end in crystal lake.
who among us could foresee
the deadly edges of Corona’s

Mercy as her silence takes
us in. The tongues of our
elders interrupted, their

Young exiled from crowded
Wombs of the forebears.
The New World cries

“Undone!”