LAMENT OF COCKROACHES SERVING DEAD TIME (QUARANTINED)
Dead time has no beginning or end—
no sign of sun or moon up in the sky.
Us cockroaches no longer scurry.
Glassy-eyed, we bitch and moan:
“Will we ever get any good eats around here,
there’s not even a breadcrumb on the floor?
Even the mice moved next door.”
After these human beings use up
all their Chef Boyardee and sardines,
they must live on stale air and pickle juice
until the next food delivery.
Milton P. Ehrlich 199 Christie St. Leonia, N.J. 07605
Biffman2002@gmail.com