Consequence of the Pandemic

I miss the choir
air passing through it
filling rooms with
heredity. In the blurry voice
are crushed
merged lifetimes of
foreign styles,
closed houses, all wanting.
.
They are singing how they
can't get over the gaps and they
call, surrounded by vacuums.
I can still
hear time passing in
they way they
breathe together.
I live still
slowly dripping hope,
turning to memory.