Poem: Inescapable

The problem with isolation from a pandemic—
besides all the million obvious issues—
is that it doesn’t allow us to run.
We’ve carefully crafted coping mechanisms
that have very little to do with coping
and a whole lot to do with running.
Avoidance is the new picture of mental health.
Throw yourself into work,
into socializing,
into helping others,
into a pool of alcohol.
But never confront.
Never deal.
Never speak of the atrocities
spilling from your mind every time
it gets too quiet.
Never.
Never.
Never.
 
So we find ourselves
Alone.
Stewing in the silence.
 
The only place to flee is the next room.
Oddly, the problem knows how to find us there.
The problem is comfortable here.
The problem is waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
 
And here we are
with no place to run.