Pandemic, Sixth Month Near Dawn
— By Justin Duewel-Zahniser
 

Staring out the kitchen window at 3:04 am.
Ghost light of the half-moon blankets the back lawn.
Bamboo finger shadows cast over the quiet garden.
 
Unkempt hair in the window’s reflection.
I grab a handful where the neck and back have come together.
At least it’s a connection, you know?
 
Two rabbits chew young clover by the fence where the kayaks hang.
A squirrel looms over them, clinging sideways to the black slats.
They are all uncomfortably close together.