Soft hair on my face tickles me awake A small voice Mom there is something wrong with my body I’m wide awake, but it is still night time The clock, the only light teases us with its numbered face, 7:15 No sweetie I reply it is morning time it’s just dark outside today Sleepiness, my costume, mirrors calm we read morning stories by lamp light time to get ready for school! discordant in the dim room The soft padding of small feet on stairs I leap from bed to window the sun hangs feebly in eastern sky red disc muted and dull It is week two of zoom school and feigning normalcy is the new gold standard of parenting we turn on lights, power the screen I want to shout it is not your body that is wrong, child, it is the world! I kiss soft hair as I walk past turn the air filters up high the darkened windows reflect her image body dwarfed by the monitor which she stares at dutifully distant as the hidden sun a teacher attempts to wrangle a class of 6-year olds from her square in the box All day we are flooded with photos the golden gate bridge the blood red light and the word “apocalypse” Inside homes across the bay we make forts, play dance games smoke so thick it erases the sun is just another day
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