THE END

by Robin Wayland

We thought it would be the atom bomb—

Blown to bits in a white mushroom
the consequence of superpowers,
Big, Bad, Blustery.

But a virus?
Too small to see with the naked eye—
pedestrian.

Blind to Black and White
Asian, Mexican—
no regard for borders or boundaries.

Defying treaties
or alliances
struck at gun point.

Deaf to
the difference in our tongues
our cultures and accents,
plates and palates.

A virus, attaching to us all
without declaring war
or marking a line in the sand.

Under the eyes
of a virus
finally
we are equal.

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