Memory hides
Waits for someone to ask
Have you seen her?
Were you hit?
Where will it strike next?
But you don’t speak
Sorrow’s quarantined
Death digitized
An updated, official number
Yet the sick lie curled-up
While the unmourned wriggle below
We’d all like to get out but
It’s hard to escape the whole world
Better to learn the truth
Nothing ever happened