By Dalia Levanon Wildflowers My vision blurs for a moment a single moment As the screen unfocuses the borders of the tiny squares disappearing so all I see is a field of smudged faces Each expression a different wildflower sprouting from the soil of Zoom The logo flashing as I blink and the teacher turns to the next slide. Frozen They are trapped
in two-dimensional frames as the Wifi disconnects Each yawn stuck forever a hand muffling the sound Each stolen text message eyes darting below the screen Each moment of peace as a camera is turned off so briefly That they are sure no one would notice Yet I did I won’t tell I promise That you were letting the exhaustion roll off of you like a tide letting your eyes flicker shut Before my screen unfreezes and the yawn is over the phone is put away And your face can be seen again.
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