For the Plague

Mike Zhai


What’s that in my window?

Bright morning Sun.

What are you doing outside?

There’s a plague afoot.

Everything’s closed.

I’m already sick,

it won’t take much to finish me off.

Aren’t you ashamed?

Roaming the streets like nothing’s happening,

touching my face after

you touch everyone else’s,

spreading joy

so inappropriate at this time.

You must not care at all

about anyone but yourself.

Look at all the plants,

already infected,

perking up through the soil,

getting ready to spread their seeds.

Go home, wild iris!

Stay down, wild grass!

Are you such yokels

that you don’t read the news

or follow the numbers?

Or have you been brainwashed by right-wing

conspiracy theorists to think

the whole thing is “fake news?”

This is real, Sun.

Real people are dying.

If there’s one cause of this plague

the doctors have neglected,

it’s you, morning Sun.

I bet you’re coming out

even in China,

Where this sort of behavior is banned.

I guess there’s no stopping you.

We’re all doomed.

At least I’ll die happy.