Personal Essay with COVID-19
       

On the third day of social-distancing my husband is in bed reading
a prophecy for the end of the world. He tells me it is a PDF, shared

on Facebook by someone neither of us knows. I am more afraid
than he is—would never seek out knowledge beyond the four-day

weather forecast. There is a phrase for this, about hatching
and counting. Asking too much from the Universe. Something

tells me that of the two of us I am the Orpheus. Always looking over
my shoulder. I am already wondering if we should postpone

our plans indefinitely—any conversations about family or career,
the balance. It is possible to suspend your life, like my vacuum-sealed

wedding dress. I look to the side of my husband's face, at his phone
—anywhere to prevent him from vanishing like guesswork.

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Copyright © 2022 Roseanna Alice Boswell All rights reserved
from Imitating Light
Iron Horse Literary Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission