Literature
Quarantine
Leaves flood storm drains and gutters like former lovers retreating to the sea, leaves crowning every street crossing like crinkled blindfolds, former lovers retreating to see themselves as they were, once, eyes closed scattered along the landscape like storms my grandfather died last week appearing nonchalant, leaves in drains supplanting rain retreating to the sea, landscape scattered, storms of barren trees bearing air and isolation but what do trees know of grief, leaves flood sidewalks like strangers who know better than to be out this year, disposable masks scattered along the landscape as the viewing is today storms send pedestrians scrambling inside, shoes scraping against leaves like strangers searching for good news in their own reflections for lack of places to look amateur reporters sorting through the same four stories to share the most palatable the funeral is tomorrow words they can find among the trees, but what do trees know about grief except that more leaves