A Pandemic Poem: Onaji Spin Poem by Nika McGuin

These days have been spent like a child spinning in circles.
Every day is as much a blur as the last,
with the same isolating song played on loop.

Onaji, onaji, onaji,
your name is onaji.
One with the furniture, onaji.
We never see the light of day, onaji.
The earth rotates around the same sun, onaji!

This must be what it feels like to spin ceaselessly...
Could the planets be
as dizzy as me?
In this pandemic
as time drifts
endlessly.