I.
Cold hard gray eyes,
burn holes into my throbbing
chest. An icy, tingling feeling shivers
down my spine, and I realize
I can’t beg, plead. Darkness
coats, and something sharp slices
into me, digging deeper,
deeper. If only for half
a heartbeat, I pray
it’s a cure, a needle injecting
medicine into my veins
and wrapping a layer around
my gushing blood. But the thought fades
as I realize fangs claw
into my skin, sinking
and sinking further into flesh
and marrow. I want to shout,
scream and cry, but jaws engulf
my neck like a shark. Frozen,
I feel the teeth strip away
limbs. Soon, it will burn everything
like a flame, a blazing fire
that turns cities into ash. But now,
it creeps close, until its reeking breath
clouds over my ears and whispers:
I’m here to stay.
II.
If someone asked me eighty years from now what it was like to live during COVID-19, I’m not sure I would know what to say. I think I would write a poem instead.
Daniel Boyko is an aspiring writer, poet, movie reviewer, and animal lover from New Jersey. A high school junior, he’s been previously published in Teen Ink, Blue Marble Review, The Daphne Review, Navigating the Maze, and The Telling Room, among others. He’s currently the Co-Editor-in-Chief of Polyphony Lit and the Vice President of Polyphony Lit’s Junior Board. Wherever his dog is, he can’t be far behind.