I did not think pregnantly
during my pause.

When a week’s passage
finally hit me,

I transposed the letters in baby
into all possible combinations

on the hypothesis one would raise
the shadow-cloaked mountain

skyward into the sunshine
so the tide might be spied

on the ocean’s gulf coast
where beaches stand void of people

afraid of virus contraction,
knowing intubation

stifles a patient’s
fearful moans.

copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

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