RELENTLESS

I plumb the depths 
of all we do not know 
with unspeakable terror, 
find a new path 
toward viral mass destruction 
every night as I sleep.

Each dream 
is filled with possibility—
of a cure, of safety—
dashed, dashed, 
and dashed again.
My heart beats
me awake, 
and I listen
to remember 
where I am. 
And each night 
the dry, relentless cough
of my daughter 
reminds me 
that we are 
not yet destroyed.

Ann E. Wallace is a COVID long hauler from Jersey City, New Jersey. Her poetry collection, Counting by Sevens, is available from Main Street Rag (2019), and she has published work in Huffington Post, Riggwelter, Crack the Spine,  Snapdragon and elsewhere. She is online at AnnWallacePhD.com and on Twitter @annwlace409.