Challenging Poetry

at the grocery store

they greeted us
at the door, with wipes—the kind
we wouldn't find on the shelves,
approaching the cart
and than backing away.
six feet.

in the aisles,
we had no room for
six feet of passing,
so when someone approached,
we stared at empty shelves
trying not to breathe.

I packed my bags,
until the bagger got there,
motioning me away
without looking at me,
without breathing at me.
and I backed up,

unable to avoid remembering
that our dead are kept
six feet away—unable
to avoid wondering
whose grave I was standing in.
his or my own.

line count: 24