Life streamed in a rectangle

Farm

Shrine

Village square

Home

Until… the slave trade came

 

Life shrunk into a triangle

Office

Worship

Home

Until…the virus came

 

The virus came

It locked us down

It masked our collective breaths

We walk the earth like masquerades

From sunup to sun down

 

Then life goes round in a circle

Work

Home

Repeat

 

Mother asked the other day

Which is the worse slay?

Slavery or this virus?

Twain have dire consequences

Death.