Zoom Poem by Doug Lane

The professors,
who have taught
in person
their whole lives,

have been told
to teach

this Fall.

Some grumble,
"I'm not a flat screen"
and "I prefer to perform
in the flesh, "

but are reminded
their students' blood
and breath
are rich
with covids

and it would be
worth
theirold,
compromised immune system
lives

to be in an enclosed space
with their
living, breathing, students
- -masks
or no masks.

So they will broadcast
their classes
on Zoom,
never knowing
if the persons
writing the students'
papers
are the students
or flunkies
paid by the students.

The school year will wear on,
ghostly,
stripped of
learning's body and soul,
with binary
teachers and students
hard pressed
to exchange
the virus
of understanding
through the interface
of the screen.