Ode to Her COVID

you're not supposed to smell whiskey,
you're supposed to drink it!

sorry your throat hurts
every time I make you laugh. 

I know you're sad,
and I know your legs are restless. 

she's a devil in a mustard yellow dress,
sweaty on the couch, watching Twilight. 

time for a HazMat suit to go help,
do her dishes and rub her shoulders. 

if I could take it away and give it to an enemy
you I would if I could.