COVID poetry

Some years ago I dateda woman who’s hair put Raspberry Kool-Aid to shame Being just as sweetOur jokes like a revolver spun around – one of us playing the match and the otherKerosene kisses burning through the late night hoursMy drunken fits werelit by blue moons Regardless of the sky I was happy despite all…

If I could write thisMy hands would be cold.Shaking free the colored pensShe writes “They are just high.”Bipolar sisters not alikeMore like cousins, not twins.Their name was forgottenFaceless panic held their voiceWhen further questions were asked,We all declined to answer.