Spring Sprung in Hell

spring sprung while we
humbly hid, holed-up
during a sick hold up—
spring sprung while we
burrowed away in our studios
hibernating in our 4th floor walk ups,
isolating in our pre-war, post-epidemic flats
spring sprung while we
brainstormed and stayed warm and made forts and cried and created and cremated out plans
spring sprung while we
hoped the sun would still be shining,
when we no longer pose a threat
to our neighbors, our loved ones,
simply by holding hands,
hugging, touching, flirting, sharing, breathing.
innocent intimacy turned against us.
What a specifically lonesome circle of hell we find ourselves in.