“Chinese Virus”

My mother’s dream was not 

Held in white picket fences

But in the rusted tin coffee can half-filled

With the copper sting of pennies pinching

Grinding her knuckles to ashes, bloody rashes,

Yet walking in the street was to hear 

The crunch and crackle of crashing

Headfirst into a bathtub full of ick

Oil filling her nose and mouth and ears 

Her skin color like a heavy coat 

She just couldn’t ever shrug off

A shroud for a mourner, call the coroner

"We got another foreigner, geez

Haven’t you people done enough?"