Respiratory Droplets

A Poem

By Sarah Asmali


A grey Sunday morning
Air is crisp, greens are wet
A little after 9am
The vibrational greeting;
Your weekly screen time is up 56% last week
for an average of 6 hours, 18 minutes a day
The virus has gone viral
An intoxication we are accustomed to
The infection we are used to
The pandemic of fear
The contagion of paranoia
Addicted to updates
It’s okay, I can tell what’s fake
Give me more, give me more
The supply for daily hits increasing
Exponentially
Hyperventilating
Am I going to lose someone I love?
Am I going to infect someone I love?
Affirm my meme dammit! 

Whispers in the background
Swaying like ancestral figures
“You have the wisdom in your blood”
“You have an obligation to be grateful”
“It is going to hit the taxi network”
“There are people without water”
“Compensate the domestic”
BUT THERE IS NOTHING ELSE I CAN DO!
“BE GRATEFUL DAMMIT”

A grey Sunday afternoon
Air is stale, no greens in sight
Now desperate for closure
I open every window
Soldiers of air gush in
The revolution is near
Nature knows no boundary
Her lungs expand and contract
to sustain every other breath
She doesn’t breathe for us
We breathe together
She cries
A stream of droplets
Mourning her vulnerabilities
I bow down
I submit to her love