Yesterday in Lincoln Park,

fifteen or so rule-breakers

assembled under a picnic shelter,

coffee cups in hand, warming

by the wood-fire as if the world

had turned a page, erased

the statistics

on social distancing,

not one of them wearing

a mask. I had to still my teacher voice,

which would have chided them

for this get-together.

All over sixty,

all high-risk.

As I passed, I heard one woman say,

Last week, I felt really angry.

We’re running a Coronavirus poem once a week, after a call for submissions. You can read more information, and a listing of the poems, here.