Inflated: Another Ode to the West Wind

(apologies to P. Shelley)

inspiration, you render the body susceptible, 

lingering unseen, hovering over the intake valve, 

opening heavy, inhospitable doors to imagination’s brain 

nothing taps at the window like isolation, falling

in a single droplet, a teardrop of unsuspecting rain

breath, you render the body a bomb, ticking

in irregular beats and latent clots

like a tornado pouncing on the city, bumper traffic 

blocking flow, symptomatic of a stoppage, 

a moment’s pause to clutch a fistful of shirt

in times like this, one could pray 

for an asymptomatic jaguar, to roam 

the street, so one could imagine a windbreak,

a tomb, to block the hurt

but the hurt, hospitalized in the cells, 

spins like a devil, no barrier 

for a breathing silence, 

a ghost gone extrovert

inspiration mutates into expiration, 

a labored exhale roaring over a patch of 

recovered interior terrain

disparate, inspiration sneaks 

into the ICU, the irony of seeing no one, 

none, but one, stranded 

on an island of beeping desert

wind, this is the chest inspired, rising 

for the city, rising for the bed, rising 

for the jaguar, rising for the ghost, rising 

beyond bomb blast of chart status: deceased

this is the chest filled 

with Wordsworth’s wind, 

an inspiration to expiration, 

home again, to Ithaca, 

by Aeolus’ strong ventilator 

and westward breath:

Be through my lips

to unawaken'd earth

_____________________

Poem structure inspired by Idaho Professor Creates COVID-19 Model To Inform Social Distancing Policies

Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 529

write a pandemic poem