Jelly, It’s Supposed to be Jelly: A Stuck Inside Poem, Day 14

Going out for groceries feels daunting.

Ordering in from Amazon feels like

I’m undermining the strike. Having

a hard time with the silver lining

on the mushroom cloud today,

but my friend Jack sent me a spacesuit

and I played Fortnite with my nephew.

Just as soon as I thought things were looking up,

somebody retweeted a pic of a refrigerator truck

outside of the ICU.  Now, I can’t unsee it.

God willing and the creak don’t rise 

used to be something my family would say

to mean you got this, but it’s gonna take

more faith than you knew you had

to continue when truth proves difficult.

Studies show babies need

human touch to stay alive. 

Grown folks can’t be that different. 

Part of me fears alive is subjective,

but there’s a clear line between

being depressed and being breathless.

I used to be a ghost,

but now, I know I’m not. The question is

what am I going to do with my one

wild and precious life?

Mood swings like an ax

sent me outside with the birds

and the butterflies.

But every time you’re within six feet,

you’re a weapon. Guns up

close are stressful whether their trigger

is yours or not. You could make a peanut butter

and bullet sandwich, but it won’t help anybody.