by Charlton Jules Romero

Can you hear me?
Just unmute your mic…
Can you see me?
Enable your video cam…

People with their elegant tops
With pretense of virtual backdrops
Shorts and pajamas rule below
Off cam…dark…sinful and bloodied.

In these shadowy corners
People remain forever muted
Never to be seen, blending in the dark
Voiceless, faceless.

The tyrant naked
Courtiers and jesters in tow
Praising, extolling
Their master’s new vestments.

Washing their hands and masks
With dubious disinfecting essences
Yet crimson hands
Ne’er could be cleansed.

Alas, the tyrant tired
With glazed eyes fixed on Elysian fields
With one last breath and moment’s clarity
Regard himself as the virus sublime.