Infected
My legs are tingling Constantly Is it just in my head? An imagined symptom Spurned by an infected world. Infected It’s the word no one wants to say Or see Or be Infected Anyone around us could be Carriers of a disease An invisible enemy That we are at war with Ourselves to avoid Each and every body, surface, sneeze It could all be Infected Trapped in our homes That have become our prisons Some of us break out Desperate For air, For sky, For space to breathe Space to be Alive again But even a walk in the park is a risk, Calculated or not. So, we ask ourselves , What if someone coughs, Or touches something, Anything That I might touch Spreading the invisible Enemy? Even strangers become enemies Because of the microscopic Because of droplets That might be in the air That might make us sick That might make ME sick Or make me a carrier An enemy to those I love But I have to get out Have to escape my prison home My legs are tingling They need to move Just like I need to breathe Is it a symptom? Am I infected? No It started before The world became infected With a virus And its omen
Andrea Fingerson is a writer, a teacher, and child of God. She has taught in the Moreno Valley Unified School District for the past fourteen years. During that time, she earned an MFA in Creative Writing, with a focus on Fiction from Cal State San Bernardino, studied art at Moreno Valley a college, and figured out how to teach remotely. She loves learning, literature, and her miniature schnauzer puppy, Annie Elliot.
Inlandia: A Literary Journey 