10 months into the pandemic

Day 2 of 31 days of poetry

Grace Moore

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it is January again, still.
How many people will die today?
I am trying to crawl out of my skin
again. I have been picking
at my edges for days
looking for a place
where my nails can
dig in, find a place to
hold on and pull
pull it all back so I can

get out.
If there was somewhere to go
I would go there
instead I am laying on the bed,
the floor, looking for a way
to shed this skin.
How many people have died today?

it is 2 am and I am dancing
in my kitchen
again
to free the skin, free
the skin, free me from
my skin. Pull it all back
and leave it behind
leave it to burn
with the rest.
How many people will die today?

It is January again, still.
There is nowhere to go
and everything burns
some add more wood
some say there is no smoke.

I haven’t been able to
take in a lungful
of clean air in months.

It is January, again, still.
I am pulling all the
skin from my body, again
leaving it to burn
and counting the dead.

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Grace Moore is a writer of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction. Her interests include travel, reading, and doing any activity that involves supplies from the craft store. She lives in Washington with her husband, where they can often be found discussing Doctor Who in-depth. Click here to sign up for her newsletter and get a free guide to overcoming writer’s block.

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Grace Moore

Learning to do this writer thing and sharing as I go. Poetry, CNF, mental health, and too many other interests. Support: ko-fi.com/gracemoore