28 Dec

The sound of the hounds vibrate

In the crevices of my mind

As their noses lead them through

A thicket of thorns and burs

A dog's head pointing right.

Tangled in a web.

A virus prickles the nostrils!

I sneeze.

Please, please keep me from wheezing.

I beg the gods of coronavirus

To keep themselves at bay.

Anxiety has taken root.

His boot is upon my neck.

Thank goodness I took the boost.

The hounds can get their meal.

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