"times like these", Nicole Ann Law

I swallow piping hot Putu piring, like always
washed down with dapao teh c
lovingly brewed in Uncle's 40 year vintage stockings
stolen from Aunty while she was not looking.

It's raining again
dead leaves kayaking through the longkang outside my flat
downstream to –

The TV is on again
the voice getting louder
my mother is silent
eyes wide.
"Deadly virus detected in...., Cases reported..."
Glued to the talking box
morbid fascination with accelerating body counts
shuttered doors and concealed faces.

We no longer eat duck
or chicken
or bat
better safe than sorry.
We clear shelves
cash in on the new toilet paper currency
queue around the block and back for Maslow's rulebook.
We close our doors
huddle round devices
crawl into the five-inch walls that demarcated
You, Me and Them.
We slow down
the domestic tableau an ideal still life for
forays into anything taught on Skillshare.
We look at each other
reading faces through screens
build connection by the hour
Zooming from friends to lovers.