How I wish that Covid-19
would cease and desist its brutal march
like my watch stopped cold this morning,
refusing to budge past eleven o’clock.
But no, the monster insists on spreading its tentacles
using stealth and speed, much faster
than the progress of the gray in my roots
as it strives to saturate every strand
while salons have shuttered their doors
and I’m sheltering inside like a good soldier,
with gnawing despair
and dreams of a return
to the days
of my rich brown hair.