Al Bright
Quarantine Haze
quarantine with my partner. well, that doesn’t sound too unnerving (that is, ‘til you calculate the size of our cramped quarters, forever within 6 feet of the other).
his breathing, do I hear the steady, deep and even breath of our meditations or is it shallow and rapid and do I have enough time to escape into Animal Crossing?
he shaves my head, my barbie past now on the floor, stuck between my toes. for the first time in my life I feel truly free, or maybe I’m only conforming to the non-binary, androgynous trends of today and so even more stuck, trapped in the honey jar that is society, than ever before?
he’s prepping every day, no, every minute – a survivalist at heart. he’s been awaiting these otherwise unforeseen days.
his charisma on another level as he calls local hospitals and healthcare centers to send donations. his preparedness now lending a helping hand to others. will i be the next first lady? awh shit no, i couldn’t handle it. he’ll have to go into politics alone.
i hear his chair squeaking, gently rocking back and forth as he lulls himself into a post-apocalyptic haze.
secretly i think he yearns for the end of days, to be my forever protector, but we both know i have no desire to ink my name into the microcosmic flesh of humanity.
let me disappear quietly. allow me to embrace the death at our doorstep. we must all learn to let.
—Submitted on 05/26/2020
Al Bright hails from the hills of West Virginia, and now lives in Los Angeles. Bright’s work has appeared in Right Hand Pointing, Elephant Journal, Wild Roof Journal, and other publications.
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