Coronavirus Nocturne

One set of footsteps echoes on the subway
Station's unused floor. The trains still run,
But no one rides. The lurid posters on the walls
Describe the films no one will see, the perfumes
Locked in unlit stores. The trash cans are not
Overflowing. None of them contains a thing.
The footsteps cease. The only sound remaining
Is the quiet clicking of a train, which will arrive
Without a reason as the world ends.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 46 times
Written on 2020-03-27 at 22:50

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