The Hounds of Coronavirus

The sound of the hounds vibrate

In the crevices of my mind

As their noses lead them through

A thicket of thorns and burs

Tangled in a web.

A virus prickles the nostrils!

I sneeze.

Please, please keep me from wheezing.

I beg the gods of coronavirus

To keep themselves at bay.

Anxiety has taken root.

His boot is upon my neck.

Thank goodness I took the boost.

The hounds can get their meal.