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​​#pandemic
The squares in Savannah are haunted and for good reasons.
Conclusion:
The poem touches on the ghosts of those we've lost to Covid.

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I always take rooibos
with milk and honey
a calm swallow
sooths my throat
unstiffening my toes
helping
walk a straight path

Twice, I tripped 
along the way
into my office
The mask string
                                   unbalancing my act
to remain cool and collected
after meeting their ghosts

regrounding
thinking of the flowers
inside the vase
back in Savannah
springing colors. Wisps
from the garden
then, thoughts of 
Asian Murder
Hornets
stinging my face
mass killings
of millions
of bees, of honey, of hope
sabotaging 
simple pleasures
in a cup
which runneth over
with horrors
of head
lines
going out of the way
to sell doom
gloom

I pilf the switch
inside my office               drifting
thoughts
                   back at home
which explodes
with colors
and a tiny bowl
of  fruit. Juicy
"Virus gossip"
whispers a coworker. The plums
tumbling
I am back
in this grey
painting
betraying worries of
whether or not
I squeezed
enough
sticky alcohol
onto my chaffed and
worn hands
the smell is putrid
numbing
my brain
fading to black and white
and finally glowing
at Whitefield

Poem by Margaret Viboolsittiseri, 2020

An invisible sickness was spreading throughout the buildings. Always my mind returned to Savannah and the history surrounding the Yellow Fever which infected many lives. The folk horror and many haunted locations in Savannah stay within"
Maggs Vibo recalling working during the Pandemic, 2020