Social Isolation: Day 17

Downloaded a pattern
to make masks
today, knowing it will end
in knots and swear words.
I can’t sew.
 
When I was nine
I wanted to be Zorro.
I had the mask,
the hat, the cape,
the sword.
I made the sign of the Z.
 
Righter of wrongs by night,
by day he was Don Diego,
a señor of means.
He had a mustache
and a horse named Tornado.
He always seemed amused.
The fox so cunning and free.

Someone stitched
that mask for him.
I wish she were here now.
 
 
 
S. Robbins, April 3, 2020

Category: A series begun with the COVID-19 isolations, Poems, series    

2 Comments on “Social Isolation: Day 17”

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