For A While Now

Blood whisper.
I signal the savior
I am ill.

My body is fine.
It is my pixilated persona
infected by a lockout virus.

I am simultaneously
alive and ghost.
Blank is beautiful.

I will not pay it—
my red-letter bank funds.

Because I spent
the morning
with the white horse in the pasture.

Bread and water disconnect.
This digital jail cell
freed me

to count wetland birds
along the Rio Grande.
Five blue herons.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

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