Valentines Day
Quarantine is nothing new To those of us who draw tiny hearts On the edges of newspapers Or on the steam vapor canvas Of bone chilled windows As we’re insulated by memories like the way that her head would slowly land onto the lunar landscape Of my shoulder the moment that we were slain by an aria, Dancing to God Only Knows naked to our feet Draped by a top sheet Or the million times that I would turn to her Simply because she was there.