Do Not Touch

In hospitals, hovels and houses they wait
knowing deeply they’re about to die.

At that time when the well runs dry
the soul agonizes, missing the water

that quells the thirst for the love
and touch of another. Emptiness,

thirst are what there is. No consolation
of friend or family, only the rule

words of a guard at an art museum

in this time of people confined alone
like paintings hung on a museum wall

to be talked about in painterly terms like
doctors discussing removal of a ventilator.

2 thoughts on “Do Not Touch

  1. “When the preacher comes as poet”~Walter Brueggemann. The lines are always blurred when your preaching is your poetry. No, when your poetry is your preaching


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