During these months

of masks and gloves,

I have become

numb to numbers,

which dangle from trees

outside the house

where, like Rapunzel,

I am trapped,

which batter my windows

like hailstones,

doubling and tripling

in size each day,

which stampede

down my street

like Pamplona bulls—

numbers that not so long ago

would have slashed my brain

with swords of amazement

and scorched my heart

with blazes of anguish.

While the TV blasts

the latest stats—

hundreds of thousands

of brand new cases,

millions of deaths and jobless claims,

billions pledged in federal aid,

I listen, but no longer hear,

immune to the data,

though not the disease.

Susan Spaeth Cherry began her writing career as a journalist. Her award-winning poetry has been published in literary magazines, on poetry websites, and in many anthologies. She is the author of six poetry collections: Sackcloth and Silk: New and Selected Poems; I Am the Pool’s Perimeter; Reflecting Pool; Breaking into the Safe of Life; Sonata in the Key of Being; and Hole to Whole.